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THE TIMES 



THE TIMES 






A COMEDY 



A. W. PINERO 



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NEW YORK 
UNITED STATES BOOK COMPANY 

SUCCESSORS TO 

JOHN W. LOVELL COMPANY 

142 TO I50 WORTH STREET 



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COPYRIGHT, 1S91, BY 

ARTHUR W. PINKRO 

All Hights Reserved 



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TROW tllRECTOR> 
AND BOOKBINDING COMPAN/ 
NEW YORK 



THE PERSONS OF THE PLAY 

Percy Egerton-Bompas, M.P. 

Mrs. Egerton-Bompas. 

Howard, their son. 

Beryl, their daughter. 

Countess op Ripstow. 

Denham, Viscount Lurgashall, her son. 

Hon. Montague Trimble. 

Timothy McSiiane, M.P. 

Mrs. Hooley. 

Honoria, her daughter. 

Miss Cazalet. 

Lucy Tuck. 

Jelf, 



INTRODUCTORY NOTE 

i" have long hoped that the time would arrive when an 
English dramatist might find himself free to put into the 
hands of the public the text of his play simultaneously with 
its representation upon the stage. Interesting as might be 
the publication of a play subsequent to its withdrawal from 
the boards of a theatre, it has seemed to me that the interest 
would be considerably enhanced if the play could be read at 
the moment when it first solicited the attention of the play- 
goer, the consideration of the critic. Such a course, I have 
felt, were it adopted as a custom, might dignify at once, the 
calling of the actor, the craft of the playwright. It icould, 
by documentary evidence, when the play was found to pos- 
sess some literary value, enable the manager to defend his 
judgment, while it woxdd always apportion fairly to actor 
and author their just shares of credit or of blame. It 
would also offer conclusive testimony as to the condition of 
theatrical work in this country. 



viii INTRODUCTORY NOTE 

It will hardly be denied that there exists in certain places 
the impression that an English plan ? ' s a hap-hazard con- 
coction of the author, the actor, and the manager; that the 
manuscript of a drama, could it ever be dragged, soiled 
ami I dog-eared, from the prompter 's shelf, would reveal itself 
as a dissolute-looking, formless thing, mercilessly scarred by 
the managerial blue pencil and illuminated by those inn umer- 
able interpolations with which the desperate actors hare 
helped to lift the poor material into temporary, unhealthy 
popularity. The publication of plays concurrently with 
their stage-production, in the exact shape, save for the ex- 
cision of technical stage-directions, in which they have left 
the author's hands, can hardly fail, therefore, to be of some 
value to the English theatre at large. The recent readjust- 
ment of the laws of International Copyright at length ena- 
bles me to offer a book of the play to the public, after the 
method which I believe to be most serviceable to the theatre — 
a method which I trust may be pursued by some of my 
brother play Wrights. 

It chances that the first work which I find myself able to 
present wider these altered conditions is one which in its 
design is a comic play — which essays to touch with a hand 



INTRODUCTORY NOTE ix 

not too heavy some of the surface faults and follies of the 
hour. It lays bare no horrid social wound, it wrangles 
over no vital problem of inextricable perplexity. If an un- 
sightly cicatrice appears to be momentarily exposed, it will 
be found upon examination to be comparatively the merest 
freckle ; if any question be raised, it is only the old, often- 
asked question — Can the depths be sounded of ignorance, 
of vulgarity of mind, of vanity, and of self-seeking ? 

At this particular moment in the struggling existence of 
our drama, a playwright ought perhaps to offer an apology 
for a work which he entreats may be considered unpreten- 
tious. Yet, even at a time when the bent of the dramatic 
taste is, we are assured, deliberately severe, there may be 
some to whom the spectacle of the mimic castigation of the 
lighter faults of humanity may prove entertaining — nay, 
more, to certain simple minds, instructive. There may be 
still those who consider that the follies, even the vices, of the 
age may be chastised as effectually by a sounding blow from 
the hollow bladder of the jester as by the fierce application 
of the knout ; that a moral need not invariably be enforced 
with the sententiousness of the sermon or the assertiveness 
of the tract. To such, if they exist, the satirist need only 



x INTRODUCTORY NOTE 

express a hope that his satire may not be found too blunt, 
the moral of his stojy too trite, the exposition too trivial, 
the jest too stale. 

ARTHUR W. P1NER0. 

London, October, 1891. 



THE TIMES 



THE FIRST ACT 

The scene represents a richly-decorated and sumptu- 
ously-furnished reception-room in the London 
house of Mr. Egerton-Bompas, M.P. It is pretti- 
ly divided by three arches resting on elegant pillars, 
and wealth and luxury are evident in all the ap- 
pointments of the room, winch tool's bright and 
cheerful in the afternoon light of early summer. 

The door opens, and Jklf, a manservant in livery, 
introduces Lady Ripstow, an aristocratic-looking 
woman of about fifty, and her son Denham, Lord 
Lurgashael, a young man of twenty-seven, also 
aristocratic in bearing, and with a determined man- 
ner. 

Denham. 
Lady Ripstow and Lord Lurgashall. 

Jelf. 
I'm aware, m'lord. 

Lady Ripstow. 
I think Mrs. Egerton-Bompas will see me. 



2 THE TIMES 

Jelf. 

I'm sure she will, m'lady, if she's at home. 

Lady Ripstow. 

She is not at home this afternoon, I know, but 
she may be indoors. 

Jelf. 

I'll ask Codrington, m'lacly. 

Lady Ripstow. 
Codrington ? 

Jelf. 

My mistress's maid's woman, m'lacly. \He goes out.] 
Lady Ripstow. 

" My mistress's maid's woman ! " The wives of 
drapers have their comforts, Denham. 

Denham. 
My dear mother ! 

Lady Ripstow. 

Is not Mr. Bompas a draper? 

Denham. 

Mr. Egerton-Bompas 

Lady Ripstow. 
Egerton ! 

Denham. 
Mr. Egerton-Bompas is a draper, in a large sense. 

Lady Ripstow. 
He has a dozen shops all in a row, you mean. 



THE TIMES 3 

Denham. 
Fourteen, as a matter of fact. 

Lady Ripstow. 
Surely that makes him fourteen times a draper. 

Denham. 
At any rate, Beryl is not a draper. 

Lady Ripstow. 
She is a draper's daughter. If she becomes your 
wife she will still be a draper's daughter ; if chil- 
dren are born to you they will be a draper's daugh- 
ter's children. 

Denham. 
They will be amiable and beautiful, like Beryl. 

Lady Bipstow. 
But not perfectly patriciau, like yourself. To 
cull an illustration from the drapery business 

Denham. 
Pray, mother ! 

Lady Ripstow. 
Beryl is cotton, you are silk ; each material in it- 
self is estimable, but cotton and silk beget satinet. 
Did you see your father this morning ? 

Denham. 
Yes, in bed. 

Lady Ripstow. 

Will he countenance your engagement by calling 
here ? 

Denham. 
He will think it over. 



4 THE TIMES 

Lady Ripstow. 

Was he very distressed at your account of Beryl's 
parents ? 

Denham. 
Acutely, I admit. 

Lady Ripstow. 

Of course you made him aware that Mr. Bompas 
sits for the northern division of St. Swithin's? 

Denham. 
Of course. 

Lady Ripstow. 

That afforded him no relief? 

Denham. 
Not perceptibly. 

Lady Ripstow. 
You emphasised — on the Conservative side of the 
House ? 

Denham. 

Yes. But my father's theory is that a common 
man's profession of Conservative principles is mere- 
ly a device to rub shoulders with superior people. 

Lady Ripstow. 
Theodore is penetrating. 

Denham. 

And he anticipates that every Conservative politi- 
cian who has any respect for himself will soon be 
driven to extreme Radicalism to find decent com- 
panionship. 



THE TIMES 5 

Lady Ripstow. 
Your father will never call here, Denham ! 

Denham. 
So be it, mother. 

Lady Ripstow. 

And you are determined to make Beryl an offer 
of marriage ? 

Denham. 
Oh, quite. 

[Beryl, a siveet, unaffected girl of about twenty, enters 
the room, attended by Jelf, and. greets Lady 
Ripstow and Denham with a pleasant frankness 
of manner."] 

Beryl. 
[Addressing Lady Ripstow.] Victor, the hair- 
dresser, has been washing mamma's head. Would 
you like to come upstairs ? 

Lady Ripstow. 
If I may. 

Beryl. 
[To Denham.] Excuse me. 

Lady Ripstow. 
[Quietly to Beryl.] Lurgashall wishes to talk to 
you, I know. Let the servant show me the way. 

Beryl. 
Jelf 

[Lady Ripstow goes from the room ivith Jelf 
in attendance, leaving Beryl and Denham 
together.] 



b THE TIMES 

Beryl. 

I have been answering invitations for mamma — 
look ! What a wearisome affair is a Season, isn't it ? 

Denham. 
A Season ? 

Beryl. 

I don't mean either of the four seasons sent by 
Heaven ; I mean the fifth, made by Man. 

Denham. 
The one Season honoured by a capital letter. 

Beryl. 
And called the Season. Ugh ! 

Denham. 
I know you care very little for gaiety. 

Beryl. 
The gaiety of climbing a flight of stairs to clutch 
at a haggard hostess on the landing ! Do sit ; we 
both have to tread a great many stairs to-night, I 
expect. 

Denham. 

Are you going to Lady Orillian's, by any chance ? 
Beryl. 

No, we don't know her — I mean, of course, she 
doesn't know us. This is our lot. [Reading from a 
tablet.'] The Horace Bennetts', the Stratfields', Mrs. 
Peter Cathew's, Music at the Verulam Club, the 
Spratt-Tliompsons'. Lighter than I thought. Shall 
we pass you on any of those stairs ? 



THE TIMES 7 

Denham. 
I shall be at Mrs. Cathew's about eleven. 

Beryl. 
A trine early for us. 

Denham. 
Early ? 

Beryl. 
H'm. We used to go very early to such places and 
stay right through, but, now that papa has " got on," 
we arrive late everywhere and murmur an apology ! 

Denham. 
Ha, ha ! 

Beryl. 

Ah, don't laugh ! If you realised as I do the sham, 
the falseness, of this sort of thing you wouldn't, you 
couldn't laugh — you'd cry. And one's life seems to 
be made up of parade and pretension — and some- 
times I feel it is more than I can Ah ! Forgive 

my complaining to you. 

Denham. 

You forget I am as hemmed in as yourself — bound 
by conventionalism, fettered by fashion. 

Beryl. 

You could revolt. 

Denham. 
I might rush away to shoot big game in America. 
That would not be declaring independence of char- 
acter, that would be escaping from declaring it. 
Beryl. 
Are you sure you have an independent character 
to declare ? 



8 THE TIMES 

Denham. 
At least I desire to behave as an individual ; at 
present I am a phonograph rolled up in a coat. I 
don't aspire to great things, but I wish to sjDeak of 
great things with gratitude and of mean things with 
indignation. 

Beryl. 
It is good of you even to talk like this. And, 
mind, if you ever break away, I'll pray for an adven- 
turer. 

Denham. 
You may begin to-day then. 

Beryl. 
Why ? 

Denham. 

I am just about to break away. 

Beryl. 
What are you going to do ? 

Denham. 
Entreat to be allowed to pay my addresses to you. 

Beryl. 
[//?, a murmur.~[ Oh ! 

Denham. 
Now you guess the object of my mother's visit this 
afternoon. 

Beryl. 
We — we are in different worlds. 

Denham. 
Let us come out of our little worlds and meet 
each other. 



THE TIMES 9 

Beryl. 
But I — I ani — nothing". 

Denham. 

Ah, I have watched you, I know you— you are an 
individual. Consent to marry me, and you confer 
upon me the gift of individuality. Answer me. 

Beryl. 

Lord Lurgashall ! 

Denham. 
[Holding out his hand.] My dear BeryL 

Beryl. 
[Laying her hand in his.] Denham ! 

[Percy Egerton - Bompas, a florid, good-humoured- 
looking man of about fifty, villi an air of great 
prosperity, but with an uneasy, assertive manner, 
enters the room together ivith the Hon. Montagu 
Trimble, a pleasant-looking, bland little man, of 
uncertain age, scrupulously trimmed and tailored'.] 

Bompas. 
Clara, here's Monty. [Demonstratively.] Hallo, 
Lurgashall, delighted to see you ! 

[Denham shakes hands with Bompas, and ex- 
changes nods with Trimble.] 

Denham. 
How are you, Trimble ? 

Trimble. 
How are you, my dear L.? 



10 THE TIMES 

BOMPAS. 

[To Denham.] I thought my wife was here ; but 
Berry will give you a cup of tea. We're always in to 
friends like you, if we are in. But, lord bless you, 
when we're not entertaining we live in other people's 
houses — they won't let us alone ! [Taking up cards 
of invitation from the table.'] I'll be bound these are 
invites. What did I say? Look here — here they 
come ! " Mrs. Bulmershe " — nice woman ! " La 
Comtesse de Faverot " — a Countess — French, but 

still ! " Mrs. Claud Fox " — oh, stockbrokers ! 

that's nothing. Here! " Lady Prestwick ! " What 
d'ye think of that ? " Lady Prestwick, At Home, 
Grosvenor Gate." Do you go there, eh, do you go 
there ? 

Denham. 

Lady Prestwick is my aunt. 

Bompas. 

Aunt, is she ? Ah, then we shall meet you. [Lay- 
ing his hand on Denham's shoulder.] It's nice for us 
all to be in the same set. "Music, 10 o'clock." I 
don't suppose we shall be there for more than a min- 
ute ; too many of these things. [Reading the card, 
to himself.] " Lady Prestwick, At Home, Grosvenor 
Gate ! " Lady Prestwick ! 

Denham. 

[Quietly to Bompas.] My mother is upstairs. 

Bompas. 

Lady Ripstow ! With my wife? Ought I to go 
up — ought I to go up ? 



THE TIMES 11 

Denham. 

No, no, don't trouble. The question will be re- 
ferred to you by-and-by. 

BoMPAS. 

What question ? 

Denham. 

Whether you will sanction an engagement between 
Beryl and myself. 

BOMPAS. 

You — you in love with — our Berry ? 

Denham. 
Yes. 

BOMPAS . 

You— you ! Shall I tell her— shall I tell her ? 

Denham. 
Sssh, please ! I've done that myself. 

[Bompas cannot speak from excitement, but he grasps 
Denham's hand as Mrs. Egerton-Bompas, a bright, 
excitable, good - looking looman of forty, enters 
with Lady Ripstow.] 

Mas. Bompas. 
[Breathlessly, to Denham.] Have you asked her ? 

Denham. 

Yes. 

Mrs. Bompas. 
Is it— all right ? 

Denham. 

Beryl has been good enough not to discourage 
me. 



12 THE TIMES 

Mrs. Bompas. 

My dear boy ! I — I can't help it ! [She kisses him.] 

Denham. 

[Smiling.] Thank you. 

[He joins his mother, Beryl, and Trimble, who 
are chatting together in a group. 

Bompas. 

[Trembling with excitement, to Mrs. Bompas.] 
Calm yourself, calm yourself ! Don't let them think 
we're honoured ! 

Mrs. Bompas. 



Oh, Percy ! 



Bompas. 



Quiet, Clara ! Tell Trimble to spread it about. 

[She joins the rest.] 
Bompas. 

[To himself.] I'll drop a line to the Morning Post. 
The Times doesn't put things in when 1 send 'em. 
"Mrs. Claud Cos, At Home." Wish she may get 
us ! 

[He tears up the card and throws it into the waste- 
paper basket. Lady Ripstow approaches the 
table at which Bompas has sat down to ivrite.] 

Bompas. 

[ Writing.] " Mr. Percy Egerton-Bompas presents 
his compliments to the Editor of the Morning Post 

"[seeing Lady Ripstow.] Eh? I beg your pardon 

— it's Lady Ripstow, isn't it ? [Shaking hands with 
her hear lily.] How's Lord Ripstow ? He and I will 
see more of each other now, I dare say. 



THE TIMES 13 

Lady Ripstow. 

Have you met Lord Ripstow ? 
Bompas. 

Well — no — that is, I may have met him and 
passed him. Clara ! We must fix a night for a 
little family dinner — no outsiders — just the family. 
Myself, Clara, Beryl, Howard — our boy, you know 
— Howard will run up from Oxford ; that's four 
Egerton - Bompases. One Denham is five — two 
Ripstows are seven 

Lady Ripstow. 
Ah ! I — I think we will defer any arrangement of 
this kind till Lord Ripstow — has called. 

Mrs. Bompas. 
Of course, Percy. 

Lady Ripstow. 

And now, if you will allow me 

Bompas. 
What was I going to say ? Oh, this is a big thing 
for Denham's future. 

Lady Ripstow. 
I — I trust so. 

Bompas. 
A father in the House of Commons as well as one 
in the Lords ; both fathers of the same way of think- 
ing too, both hard-and-fast Unionists, both staunch 
Conservatives — the only political faith for an English 
gentleman. 

Mrs. Bompas. 
Percy ! 



14 THE TIMES 

BOMPAS. 

[To Lady Ripstow.] Don't you see ? As I've only- 
one boy — and a good, clever boy be is, thank God ! 
— I can keep an eye on your chick as well as my 
own. 

Lady Ripstow. 

Thank you — I — I have to call in Mereworth 
Square ; I am coming back for Lurgashall. 

[She passes Bompas and speaks a word to Mrs. 
Bompas.] 

Bompas. 

[Resuming his seat and writing.] " and begs 

to inform him that a marriage has been ar- 
ranged " 

[Lady Ripstow leaves the room.] 

Mrs. Bompas. 
Take Lady Ripstow downstairs. What are you 
thinking about ? 

Bompas. 
[Rising.] Eh ? 

[He runs out after Lady Ripstow. — Trimble, 
leaving Beryl and Denham together, advan- 
ces effusively to Mrs. Bompas.] 

Trimble. 
Dear Mrs. Egerton-Bompas ! 

Mrs. Bompas. 
Oh, Monty ! 

Trimble. 

You are very proud — h'm ? 

Mrs. Bompas. 
Yes, I am proud. Now, now what will my old 



THE TIMES 15 

school-fellow, Emily Spratt-Thonrpson, have to say? 
Oh, Monty, nothing on earth shall prevent me going 
to church next Sunday morning ! 

Trimble. 
Lee me see ; I think I — h'm ? 

Mrs. Bompas. 

Yes, you brought him to my third reception last 
season. Bless you ! 

[Beryl and Denham go from the room together.] 
Trimble. 
[Mournfully.] H'aah ! 

Mrs. Bompas. 
What are you so glum about ? 

Trimble. 
Why, dear Mrs. Egerton-Bompas, I suppose I ex- 
perience that mixed sensation of pain and pleasure 
which the nurse feels when the infant she has taught 
to toddle wriggles its little fist out of her hand, and 
scampers off unassisted. 

Mrs. Bompas. 
You mean that now Berry is to make this tre- 
mendous marriage, we shall be able to run alone in 
Society '? 

Trimble. 
I am unselfish enough to hope so, dear Mrs. 
Egerton-Bompas. 

Mrs. Bompas. 

But we're not likely to forcret your little services 
Monty. 



16 THE TIMES 

Trimble. 
No, no — you're too amiable for that. But I antici- 
pate that your poor friend will not be quite so — so 
indispensable in the future, h'ni ? 

Mrs. Bompas. 
Perhaps not, in the sense you mean. 

Trimble. 
In point of fact, dear Mrs. Egerton-Bompas, the 
devoted nurse forfeits her place and her perquisites, 
and the thriftless, improvident old woman — if I may 
so allude to myself — dooced well can't afford it. 

Mrs. Bompas. 
Nonsense ! Doesn't your brother — doesn't Lord 
Morphett do something for you ? 

Trimble. 

Dear Morphett pays the allowance I am compelled 
to make my wife — that's all. But as for the neces- 
saries of life, I pledge you my word, there was a 
moment last September when the question of my 
giving up my little box in Scotland was really 
mooted. However, I was fortunate enough to get 
you and Egerton-Bompas some pleasant introduc- 
tions at Hoinburg, and the dear liberal fellow 

Mrs. Bompas. 
Yes, yes — never mind that. 

Trimble. 
But now — 

Mrs. Bompas. 

Sssh ! I'll tell Percy to be always very kind to 
vou. 



THE TIMES 17 

Trimble. 
Dear soul ! 

Mrs. Bompas. 
I can't sit still, Monty ! 

[She moves restlessly about the room.] 

Trimble. 

I came here this afternoon to give yon what I 
hoped would prove a piece of good news. 

Mrs. Bompas. 
There's no more good news in the world ! 

Trimble. 
No, not now. 

Mrs. Bompas. 
Well, what is it ? 

Trimble. 

The Maharaja of Shikapoor has at last fixed a 
night to dine here. 

Mrs. Bompas. 
What ! you've got him ? 

Trimble. . 
After shockin' difficulties. 

Mrs. Bompas. 
Oh, bless you, bless you, dear man ! Now, now, 
Emily Spratt-Thompson, what will you have to say ? 

[Bompas returns.] 
Mrs. Bompas. 
Percy, that nigger has consented to dine with us ! 



18 THE TIMES 

BOMPAS. 

The Maharaja . 

Mrs. Bompas. 
Yes. 

Bompas. 

No ! Has he ? When ? 

Trimble. 
The 20th. 

Bompas. 
Ours is the first private house this great Indian 
potentate will have dined at. 

Trimble. 
Certainly. 

Mrs. Bompas. 
Hah ! triumph ! 

Trimble. 
Led by some association of ideas, he has hitherto 
persisted in going every night to the Empire. 
Mrs. Bompas. 
Percy, it must be a brilliant occasion. 

Bompas. 
By Jove, yes ! Monty ! 

Trimble. 
Command me, dear E.-B. Now, whom will you 
have to meet the great man — your friends ? 

Bompas. 
Friends ? 

Mrs. Bompas. 
Friends ? 

Bompas. 
You see, one can always have friends. 



THE TIMES 19 

Trimble. 

But you want to let your friends see you've got 
the Maharaja. 

Bompas. 

No, no, no — they'll read about it in the papers. 

Mrs. Bompas. 

I should like the best people in London. 

Trimble. 

The best we can get. 

Bompas. 

Clara, we will make this the dinner to which we 
ask the Ripstows — Lord and Lady Ripstow. We'll 
show them, hey ? We'll let them see, shall we ? 

Mrs. Bompas. 
But you told Lady Ripstow that their dinner was 
to be a family dinner. 

Bompas. 
[Quietly to her.] Yes, but I've been thinking — 
they might expect to meet my relations. 

Trimble. 
I've already roughed out a few suggestions. 

Bompas. 
Good ! 

Mrs. Bompas. 
Monty is so useful. 

Trimble. 
[Consulting his memoranda.'] Now, there's old 
Lord Hipgrave — 



20 THE TIMES 

Mrs. Bompas. 
Lord Hipgrave ! 

Bompas. 
Lord Hipgrave ! Phew ! 

Trimble. 
I can get him. 

Bompas. 
I shall be happy to welcome Lord Hipgrave to 
my house. 

Trimble. 
He's not in demand just now, and will eat a good 
dinner anvwhere. But he's still a great name, dear 
Mrs. E.-B". 

Mrs. Bompas. 
Tremendous ! 

Trimble. 

I feel bound to tell you that he feeds in rather a 

coarse way 

Mrs. Bompas. 
Disgusting ! 

Trimble. 
Sssh ! he's a great name ! 

Trimble. 
[Beading from his notes.~\ And he begs that — oh, 
here it is — he begs that a dinner may not be held to 
constitute acquaintanceship. 

Bompas. 
Infernal impudence ! 

Mrs. Bompas. 
The brutes that dine at my table ! 



THE TIMES 21 

BOMPAS. 

However, he's a great name. Well ! 
Trimble. 

Sir Charles Farmiloe will come with Algy Fitz- 
bray. 

BOMPAS. 

Excellent 

Trimble. 

Just for fun, is the way they put it. 

Mrs. Bompas. 
Cads ! 

Trimble. 

They are mere boys, you know, and never open 
their lips. Then there's Charley Spreckly — he will 
whip the thing up. 

Bompas. 
By Jove, rather ! 

Mrs. Bompas. 
Oh ! He tells all those inimitable stories ; they're 
in everybody's mouth. 

Trimble. 
Well, everybody's inimitable stories are in his 
•mouth — same thing. He's the best raconteur in 
society. 

Bompas. 

[To Mrs. Bompas.] Knew we should get him some 
day. 

Trimble. 

But I ought to let you know, dear E.-B., that 
Spreckly asks five-and-twenty guineas. 



22 THE TIMES 

Mrs. Bompas. 
What 

Bompas. 

From every house he goes to ? 

Trimble. 

From some houses he goes to. It is kept abso- 
lutely quiet, of course ; if such a thing got about, 
he might as well go on the stage at once. 

Mrs. Bompas. 

Five-and-twenty ! 

Trimble. 

Yes, and you don't get his new stories for that. 

Bompas. 
Pay him thirty — this must be a perfect dinner. 

Mrs. Bompas. 
Now, the women. 

Trimble. 
That's always a little difficulty, h'm ! You 
wouldn't care for a cheerful but perfectly lady-like 
actress ? 

Mrs. Bompas. 
[Reproachfully .] My dear Monty ! 

Trimble. 
I beg pardon. 

Mrs. Bompas. 
Really, I would much rather ask my own personal 
friends. 



THE TIMES 23 

Trimble. 

Have you your Visiting List handy ? 

[She gives him a book from the table.] 

Trimble. 

I daresay there are some good people here you 
don't know. I'll run through it in the next room ; 
it may give my brain a fillip. 

[He goes out. Jelf enters.] 

Jelf. 

Carriage is at the door, sir. [Jelf withdraws.] 

Mrs. Bompas. 

Going down to the House, Percy ? 

Bompas. 
Yes, dear. 

{They sit cosily together, and she arranges a 
/tower in his buttonhole.'] 

Bompas. 
May I drive you anywhere ? 

Mrs. Bompas. 
No, thanks. I've asked Miss Cazalet to pop in. 

Bompas. 
Kate Cazalet, the novelist? 

Mrs. Bompas. 
Yes. I hear she's become the proprietress of a 
struggling little daily newspaper — the Morning 
Mlessage. 



24 THE TIMES 

BOMPAS. 

Never heard of it — won't live. A woman, too ! 
Mrs. Bompas. 

Isn't it ridiculous ! Still, one may get one's gowns 
decently described ; so I thought a cup of tea in a 
friendly, informal way 

Bompas. 
Very good-natured of you, I'm sure. Give her 
my best wishes. 

Mrs. Bompas. 
[Laying her hand upon his arm as he is going.~\ 
Percy, dear, are they beginning to make you feel 
more at home in the House ? 

Bompas. 

Well ! 

Mrs. Bompas. 

I wonder, darling, if your manner strikes them as 
being a little too — a little too pushing. 

Bompas. 
I shouldn't be surprised. But, you see, it's the 
only manner I've got. 

Mrs. Bompas. 
I know, dear, I know. 

Bompas. 
And it comes natural to me. And if I don't push, 
Clara, I feel, somehow, that I'm not " in it." 

Mrs. Bompas. 
But you are "in it," Percy. We're wealthy, with 
a town house and a country one, with horses, car- 



THE TIMES 25 

riages, servants, and twice as much of everything 
as we need. You should remind yourself of this 
constantly. 

BOMPAS. 

I do, I do, every minute of the day. I believe I'm 
sensitive, Clara. 

]\Iks. Bompas. 
About what ? 

Bompas. 

Perhaps it's — the business. 

Mrs. Bompas. 

The business will soon be a Company — " Bompas's 
Limited," and you the Chairman. 

Bompas. 
Ah, but I've walked the shop a great deal in my 
time and — it's the same with a man that's been to 
sea — that tells its own tale. The other night I was 
bustling across the Members' lobby, in my own 
energetic way, you know, and I heard a voice near 
me saying, "What price, blankets?" 

MrvS. Bompas. 
Infamous ! 

Bompas. 
Of course it proceeded from an Irish member, but 

still 

Mrs. Bompas. 
Not Mr. McShane again ? 

Bompas. 
Yes, that little beast, McShane. And then, in- 
gratitude hurts me. I've been in the House a couple 



26 THE TIMES 

of months, and what's the one question on which my 
opinion has been sought, the one point I've been 
consulted upon ? 

Mks. Bompas. 
Yes, yes, you've told me. 

BOMPAS. 

The quality of the table-linen in the dining-room. 
Hah ! However, wait ! wait ! 

Mrs. Bompas. 
Bless you. 

Bompas. 
"Well, good-bye, old lady. 

Mrs. Bompas. 
[Putting her arms round his neck.] Good-b}'e, 
poor old man. [Brushing a tear aivay.] After all 
— we're very lucky, aren't we ? 

Bompas. 
Rather — and deserve to be. 

[Mrs. Bompas sits at the table, humming a song 
happily.] 

Bompas. 
Oh, I want my copy of the Labour Bill — it's in the 
library. 

[Jelf enters quietly, and approaches Bompas as he is 
going out by another door. 

Jelf. 

[In a whisper.] Sir. 

Bompas. 
What is it ? 



THE TIMES 27 



Jelf. 



[Looking towards Mrs. Bompas.] Hush, please, sir ! 
Mr. Howard's come home. 

Bompas. 
Mr. Howard ! 

Jelf. 

I'm afraid everything's not quite right, sir — he 
cried when he saw me. 

Bompas. 
Where is he ? 

Jelf. 
In the library, sir — with some ladies. 

Bompas. 

With some — out of the way ! 

[Bompas goes out hurriedly, followed by Jelf, and as 
Mrs. Bompas, who has not noticed them, finishes 
her song with a little trill, Beryl and Denham 
come into the room.'] 

Mrs. Bompas. 
Well, darlings? 

Beryl. 
Lord Lurgashall asked me to show him Rich- 
mond's portrait of myself, mamma. 

Mrs. Bompas. 
Bless her ! And did you notice Holl's picture of 
Mr. Egerton-Bompas, in the dining-room ? 

Denham. 
Oh, yes. 



28 THE TIMES 

Mrs. Bompas. 

Doesn't ifc speak ! We intend bequeathing it to 
the Carlton Club. 

[The door opens.] 
Jelf. 
[Announcing. ] Miss Cazalet— Miss Tuck. 

[Jelf shows in Miss Cazalet, a vivacious, hand- 
some, well-preserved and richly -attired woman 
of about seven-and-thirty, and Lucy, a pale, sad- 
looking girl, wearing spectacles, and almost shab- 
bily dressed."] 

Mrs. Bompas. 
[Kissing Miss Cazalet.] So good of you to come ! 

Miss Cazalet. 
What a charming house you have ! 

Miss Cazalet. 
[To Beryl.] How are you, dear? 

Mrs. Bompas. 
Do you know Lord Lurgashall ? 

Miss Cazalet. 
By his likeness to his papa, not otherwise. 

[Denham bows formally.] 

Miss Cazalet. 
Lucy dear. [To Mrs. Bompas ] I so want to intro- 
duce my little niece, Lucy Tuck. 

Mrs. Bompas. 
[To Lucy.] How do you do ? 



THE TIMES 20 

Miss Cazalet. 
Poor Lucy has broken down wof ully at Newnham. 
Her feminine intellect has drawn the line at Latin 
Prose, and left her rubbing menthol into her brows 
from morning till night. 

Mrs. Bompas. 
Dear child ! 

Beryl. 
[Sympathetically. .] Oh, mamma ! 

Miss Cazalet. 

[To Beryl.] You girls are nearly of the same age 
— do tell her there is something in the world besides 
a First Class in the Classical Tripos. 

Beryl. 

[To Lucy.] And have you a bad head this after- 
noon ? 

Lucy. 
Oh, yes. 

Beryl. 

When did it come on? 

Lucy. 
The year before last. 

Beryl. 
The year before last ? 

Lucy. 
It isn't of so much consequence now I've left 
Newnham, only they say it makes me appear un- 
sociable. 



30 THE TIMES 

Miss Cazalet. 

[To Mrs. Bompas, who has been chatting with her 
apart.] A thousand congratulations ! May I an- 
nounce it in my paper ? 

Mrs. Bompas. 
Do. 

Miss Cazalet. 

Any date fixed ? 

Mrs. Bompas. 
[In a whisper.] Not yet. 

Miss Cazalet. 

By-the-way, I hope you all know that anybody 
who buys a copy of the Morning Message on and 
after Monday is bestowing a penny upon a hard- 
working, deserving woman. The Morning Message 
— ever heard of it ? 

Denham. 

I must confess I 

Miss Cazalet. 

Ah, I thought not. 

[Jelf enter's, carrying a silver tray with tea-things. 
Beryl pours out tea.] 

Miss Cazalet. 

Poor little journal — it's only six months old and 
very weak, like a rickety baby ! I'm going to nurse 
it into vitality. [To Denham.] Isn't it bold, eh? 

Denham. 
Extremely. 



THE TIMES 31 

Miss Cazalet. 

You mean brazen ! [Catching Beryl's eye.] Two 
lumps, please, dear, and cream. 

Mrs. Bompas. 
You must be careful not to lose your money. 

Miss Cazalet. 

Ob, that's all right. A dear good friend in the 
City, who believes in me, has bought the paper for 
that [snapping her fingers], and has given it to me 
as a — as a birthday present. 

[Denham hands Miss Cazalet a cup of tea : she 
declines cake.] 

Miss Cazalet. 

No, thanks, I'm too full of the Morning Message 
to eat — excuse my coarseness. 

Denham. 
H'm! 

Miss Cazalet. 

My City friend furnishes the Money Article, 
naturally. 

Denham. 

[To himself.] I'll be bound he does. 

Miss Cazalet. 

I do Society, the Opera and the Play, and perhaps 
Ascot and Covves. 

Mrs. Bompas. 

Don't overtax yourself, dear. 



32 THE TIMES 

Miss Cazalet. 
Oh, of course I Lave a man Editor and all sorts of 
nice things of that kind about me — to save me the 
fag, you know. 

Mrs Bompas. 
[Taking tea.] Thanks. And you think a woman 
really possesses the authority ? 

Miss Cazalet. 

Authority ! Why, the staff already kiss the 
ground I walk on. At 18 Boswell Court, second 
floor— office of the M. M. — I'm a queen, my dears, 
inky but absolute. It's glorious ! 

Mrs. Bompas. 
And so, on Monday 

Miss Cazalet. 

And every morning, you'll each buy the Message, 
please — my Message ! [To each and all] Will you ? 
Will you ? Will you ? 

Mrs. Bompas, Denham, Beryl. 
Certainly. 

Miss Cazalet. 

Thanks, awfully. Three-pence ! [Quietly, to Mrs. 
Bompas.] Oh, may I speak to you, dear ? 

Mrs. Bompas. 
Quietly ? 

Miss Cazalet. 

[To Lucy.] Lucy, I want you to tell dear Mrs. 
Egerton-Bompas— come here. 



THE TIMES 33 

[Miss Cazalet and Lucy talk confidentially with 
Mrs. Bompas. 

Beryl. 
[To Denham, handing his tea.] What is your im- 
pression of Miss Cazalet ? 

Denham. 
[Sipping his tea.] Sweet. 

Beryl. 
Really? 

Denham. 
The tea. 

Beryl. 

Who is she? I don't think we know her very 
well. 

Denham. 

She is one of Sir George Cazalet's many beautiful 
daughters. 

Beryl. 
Quite a lady, then ? 

Denham. 
He was quite a gentleman. 
Beryl. 
What has been her career? 
Denham. 
After poor old Sir George's death she wrote real- 
istic novels, until 

Beryl. 

Until ? 

Denham. 

Until realism was exhausted, Mudie alienated, and 
Smith shocked. 



34 THE TIMES 

Beryl. 
Why this journalistic craze ? 
Denham. 
Ob, morphia, brandy, or ink — all uneraclicable 
habits in a woman. 

Beryl. 
I see you don't like her. 

Denham. 
Well — I'd rather you did not. Good gracious ! It 
has just struck me — suppose my mother finds her 
here ! It can't be helped. 

Beryl. 
What do you mean ? 

Denham. 
It's an absurd old story, Beryl — may I confide it 
to you? This 'lady -was once included in a country 
house-party with my mother and father. It j^leased 
my dear mother, who is a woman, to be ridiculously 
jealous. 

Beryl. 
Of Miss Cazalet ? 

Denham. 
The affair was perfectly foundationless, but my 
father, as an assertion of his independence, thought 
proper when he returned to town — to calL 

Beryl. 

On Miss Cazalet ? 

Denham. 
Yes. Ever since then my mother has hated 



THE TIMES 35 

Beryl. 
Not your father ! 

Denham. 
No — Miss Cazalet. 

Beryl. 
Hark ! Is that Lady Ripstow's carnage ? 

[Beryl and Denham look out of window.'] 
Mrs. Bompas. 
[To Miss Cazalet. ] I declare, it's quite sweet of 
you. 

Miss Cazalet. 

No, no — I regard my poor niece as a very precious 
responsibility. But she would be so much happier 
for some employment— not the newspaper, the mere 
mention of that makes her head fall in two — some- 
thing placid, something mouselike. 
Mrs. Bompas. 
[Making notes.] I'll consult Percy. You sug- 
gest ? 

Miss Cazalet. 

She would be a soothing companion for an old lady. 

Mrs. Bompas. 
There are so many old ladies, too. 

Miss Cazalet. 
Yes, if they'd only admit it. Or as tutor to some 
backward or delicate girl. 

Mrs. Bompas. 
There ! 

Miss Cazalet. 
You dear woman ! [ Producing a note-book.] What 
gown do you wear at the opera on Saturday night? 



36 THE TIMES 

Mrs. Bompas. 

One of Mrs. Weatherhill's. The skirt is yellow 
silk brocaded with, tiny pompadour bouquets of 
flowers. Round the hem, tln*ee festooned flounces 
of pale yellow chiffon. 

[Jelf shoivs in Lady Ripstow and ivithdraws.] 

Lady Ripstow. 

Has Lurgashall gone? 

Mrs. Bompas. 

No. 

[Miss Cazalet looks up from her note-booh ; she 
and Lady Ripstow recognise each other.] 

Mrs. Bompas. 

[To Lady Ripstow.] Let me introduce my friend, 
Miss Cazalet. 

Miss Cazalet. 

[Offering her hand.] I think we've met before, 
haven't we? 

[Lady Ripstow regards her with a cold stare, 
then turns to Deniiam.] 

Lady Ripstow. 

Den ham 

Miss Cazalet. 

[To Lucy.] She cuts me ! That woman cuts me ! 
Oh, if ever I have the chance — ! 

[Bompas enters the room, his face pale, his hair dis- 
rdered, his manner much discomposed.] 



THE TIMES 37 

Mrs. Bompas. 
Percy ! 

Bompas. 

[Whispering to her.] Get rid of 'em, get rid of 

'em ! 

Lady Ripstow. 

[To Mrs. Bompas.] Good-bye ! [To Bompas.] 
Good-bye ! 

Bompas. 

Good-bye, Lady Ripstow. Remember me to Lord 
Ripstow, I beg. What was I going to say ? 

[Lady Ripstow goes out with Beryl.] 

Denham. 

[Shaking hands with Mr. and Mrs. Bompas.] We 
shall meet to-night, I hope. 

Bompas. 

Somewhere or other — somewhere or other. 

[Denham goes out.] 
Miss Cazalet. 

[Shaking hands ivith Mrs. Bompas.] Good-bye, 
dear. 

Mrs. Bompas. 

Must you go ? So sorry. 

[Mrs. Bompas rings the bell] 

Bompas. 
[Shaking hands with Miss Cazalet.] Good luck to 
your paper — meets a want — I was saying so this 
afternoon. 



38 THE TIMES 

Miss Cazalet. 

How well you're looking ! Good-bye \ 

[Jelf appears, and shows Miss Cazalet and Lucy 
out.-] 

Mrs. Bompas. 

What's the matter ? 

Bompas. 

[Wildly.] The matter! 

Mrs. Bompas. 

[Shaking his arm.] Percy ! 

[Trimble enters, ivitJi the visiting-tist and some sheets 
of paper, but remains in the background.] 

Mrs. Bompas. 

Percy ! Speak to me ! 

Bompas. 
Howard ! 

Mrs. Bompas. 
My boy ! There's something wrong ! You've 
got a letter from him ! Percy, he's not ill ! He's 

not ! 

Bompas. 
Worse — married ! 

Mrs. Bompas. 

Married ! My child — married ! 

Bompas. 

Hah! 

Mrs. Bompas. 

Married — whom ? 



THE TIMES 39 

BOMPAS. 

S&ywhat! A nobody — a nothing — an ignorant, 
ill-bred hussy ! 

Mrs. Bompas. 
No, no ! 

Bompas. 

A low trollop you daren't show to your friends — 
a slut that's not good enough for our kitchen ! 

[Mrs. Bompas throws herself upon the settee in hys- 
terics, as Beryl enters.] 

Mrs. Bompas. 

Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear ! Ha, ha, ha, ha ! Oh 
dear, oh dear, oh dear ! 

Beryl. 
Mamma 

Trimble. 
My dear Mrs. E.-B.! 

Mrs. Bompas. 
My boy — my child — my poor boy ! 

Bompas. 
Be quiet ! 

Beryl. 

What has happened ? 

Mrs. Bompas. 

Your brother has married somebody. 

Beryl. 
Married ! 



40 THE TIMES 

Mrs. Bompas. 
Ha, ha, ha! 

Bompas. 

Monty, we can trust you ; Beryl, hold your tongue ! 
Beryl. 

[To Trimble.] A little water ! 

[Trimble runs out, Beryl holds a vinaigrette to 
Mrs. Bompas's nose.] 

Bompas. 
Disgraced ! disgraced ! Just as I was getting on ! 

Beryl. 
Be silent, papa ! 

Bompas. 

Cards flowing in — flowing in — from the best peo- 
ple ! The Maharaja about to dine here ! And 
Lurgashall — just as we are engaged to Lurgashall! 
It will fall through ! 

Beryl. 
Oh, don't ! Look at mamma ! 

Bompas. 
Look at mamma ! Look at me ! 

[Trimble re-enters hurriedly with a glass of water — 
Bompas stretches out his hand/or it.] 

Bompas. 
Ah! 

Trimble. 

No, no, it's for your wife. 



THE TIMES 41 

BOMPAS. 

Oh ! It will be broken off — our engagement — to 
Lurgashall — broken off ! 

[Mrs. Bompas recovers, and sits up faintly.] 

Mrs. Bompas. 

[To Bompas.] Tell me. 

Bompas. 

It appears that Howard hasn't been near Oxford 
for more than a couple of months. 

Mrs. Bompas. 

But we've received letters from him written on 
his club paper. 

Bompas. 

Asking for supplies — hah, he managed that. 

Beryl. 

Where has he been, papa? 

Bompas. 
At that little out-of-the-way hole in Wales 

Beryl. 
Llannyllyth ? 

Bompas. 
Llannyllyth, where he and young Parker and 
Giltspur went to read. To read ! 

Mrs. Bompas. 
I told you I didn't believe in reading-parties. 
He'd much better have come home to learn his les- 
sons — I'd have found time to hold the book for him. 



42 THE TIMES 

BoMPAS. 

Well, the other fellows, Parker and Giltspur, re- 
turned to college 

Mrs. Bompas. 
Without Howard ? 

Bompas. 

Yes, he made some excuse to remain behind. 
Faugh ! 

Mrs. Bompas. 



Why? 

Why ! Why ! 
Papa, don't ! 
My dear E.-B. 



Bompas. 
Beryl. 

Trimble. 
Bompas. 



Why ! So that he might marry — so that he might 
marry — his landlady's daughter. 

Mrs. Bompas. 

His landlady's ! 

Bompas. 

The daughter of a common creature named Doolcy 
or Hooley — an Irish widow. 

Mrs. Bompas. 
Irish 



THE TIMES 43 

BOMPAS. 

A pauper who seems to have got stuck in the mud 
at Llannyllyth, on her way from Ireland, for want of 
funds. Funds ! The dear lady's got another to keep 
now ! 

Mrs. Bompas. 

Oh, no, no ! 

Bompas. 

[Staring before him wildly.] There will be one 
lodging-house at Llannyllyth where a young man is 
en^acred to clean boots and windows ! 



Papa ! 
Really, E.-B. 



Beryl. 
Trimble. 



Bompas. 

Apartments for families — pleasant view of the 
glorious vale of Llannyllyth! Door opened by my 
boy's wife's mother, in curl-papers! Chambermaid, 
my daughter-indaw ! Only lodgingdiouse in the 
Principality with a butler — my son and heir ! 

Beryl. 
Papa, you are exaggerating ! If there is any truth 
at all in this horrid report 

Bompas. 
Truth ! 

Beryl. 
I am certain the reality is far less terrible than 
the story you tell us. Let us read it for ourselves — 
show us the letter. 

Bompas. 
The letter ! 



44 THE TIMES 

Beryl. 
Isn't there a letter? How do you know all this? 

Bompas. 

Ob, yes, of course — I haven't mentioned 

[Enter Howard Egerton - Bompas, a commonplace, 
heavy young man, of about one-and-twenty, look- 
ing very wretched and upset.] 

Howard. 
Ma! 

Mrs. Bompas. 
Oh! 

Beryl. 
Howard ! 

Howard. 

I want to know what's going to be done. 

Mrs. Bompas. 

[Kissing him.] My boy ! 

Howard. 

All right, ma dear. I s'pose you've heard all 
about it. 

Beryl. 
Papa has told us. 

Howard. 
Hullo, Monty ! 

Trimble. 

Er — um — ah — good afternoon. 

Howard. 

Here's a mess, Monty. 



THE TIMES 45 

Trimble. 
You are right, dear young friend. 
Mrs. Bompas. 

Oh, Howard, whatever made you do a thing like 
this? 

Howard. 
I dun' know. 

Beryl. 
You must know, Howard. 

Howard. 

Well, I s'pose a sort of lonely feeling came over 
me — I dun' know. And then I got fogged over my 
Constitutional Law — I dun' know. And then my 
head seemed to swell. And then Honoria 



Honoria ? 
My wife. 

Ah! 



Mrs. Bompas. 

Howard. 
Mrs. Bompas. 



Howard. 
Honoria used to lay the cloth. 

Mrs. Bompas. 
Yes? 

Howard. 

Well, Honoria used to lay the cloth. 

Mrs. Bompas. 

You've said that, darling. 



46 THE TIMES 

Howard. 

Well, Honoria used to lay the cloth — and so I 
married her at the Registry Office. 

Mrs. Bompas. 

Not even iu church ? 

Howard. 

I'm telling you — at the little Registry Office at 
Abergaron. It can't get about ; my chums never 
guessed I was in love, and my two witnesses were a 
deaf gardener and a chalk labourer ; and I can hook 
it to Australia, or the Cape, and our fine friends 
won't be a bit the wiser. And if people ask what's 
become of me, you can say — well, I dun' know. 

Mrs. Bompas. 
[Putting her arms around Ida neck.] Australia ! 

Howard. 
Oh, let a fellow breathe ! 

Mrs. Bompas. 
You stifle him, Beryl. Tell me, what is she like ? 

Howard. 
Jolly pretty, / think. 

Beryl. 
Is she fairly educated, Howard ? 

Howard 
What does that matter ? 

Beryl. 
Oh, Howard ! 



THE TIMES 47 

HOWARD. 

No, she's not fairly educated. I've tried to teach 
her how to spell a little, and I've found out I don't 
know how to spell, myself. So I'm not fairly edu- 
cated ; and I suppose you'd call me a representative 
young English gentleman. 

Mrs. Bompas. 
And — and — the mother? 

Howard. 
Mrs. Hooley? 

Mrs. Bompas. 
Is she — nice? 

Howard. 
I dun' know. 

Beryl. 
You must know, Howard. 

Howard. 
Look here, one would think I was being ragged 
by the Warden ! I won't stand it ! Becollect, I— I 
— I'm a married man ! 

Bompas. 
Now then, now then, how dare you ! 

Howard. 
You see I'm upset. If you want to quiz my new 
people, and — and — disparage them, they're sitting 
in the library — 

Mrs. Bompas. 
Here ! 

Beryl. 
Mamma ! 



48 THE TIMES 

Mrs. Bompas. 

Percy, why haven't I been told this? I demand 
to see my son's wife ! Take me downstairs, instantly ! 

Bompas. 

No, no — not another scene there, with a couple 
of servants in the hall. I'll — no — Monty, you're a 
stranger, they won't howl so much with you. Get 
'em out of the library and sneak 'em up here. 

[Trimble goes out.] 
Mrs. Bompas. 

Why didn't you bring your wife alone ? Why the 
mother? Surely the mother would have kept for a 
week or two. 

Howard. 
/ didn't want to bring Mrs. Hooley. Do you think 
I'm a fool? 

Beryl. 
For shame, Howard ! 

Howard. 
Why, I hadn't the cash to bring anybody. I was 
stoney-broke ; you can't marry without extra ex- 
penses. It's Mrs. Hoole}' who's brought me! — 
third-class too, like a cad ! 

Bompas. 
I hear them ! Ahhh ! quiet ! quiet ! 

Mrs. Bompas. 
Is my hair all right, Beryl ? 
Beryl. 
Yes, mamma. [Trimble returns.] 



THE TIMES 49 

Trimble. 
Come in, pray come in ! 

[Honoria, an ordinarily pretty Irish girl of about 
eighteen, rather showily dressed, and Mrs. Hoo- 
ley, her mother, a " genteel " person of eight-and- 
thirty, not very tidy in appearance, enter timidly 
amid gloomy silence. They haue both been weep- 
ing.'] 

Trimble. 

I think Mr. — and Mrs. — Egerton-Bompas would 
like you to sit down. 

Bompas. 

[To Honoria and Mrs. Hooley.] Be seated. 

[Honoria and Mrs. Hooley sit, and continue sob- 
bing at intervals.] 

Mrs. Bompas. 

Mrs. ? 

Mrs. Hooley. 

[Speaking ivith a slight brogue.] Hooley — Kath- 
leen Hooley, widow of Captain Patrick Fagan 
Hooley. 

Bompas. 
Captain ? 

Mrs. Hooley. 

Captain of the coastguard at Kilbrain, north of 
Ireland. He fell into the water fifteen years ago in 
time to be spared the trouble that's come upon us. 

Mrs. Bompas. 
Trouble that's come upon us ! You've brought it 



50 THE TIMES 

Mrs. Hooley. 
Indeed I've not, ma'am ! 

Bompas. 
Pooh! 

Mrs. Hooley. 

No, sir, I've not ; and though I'm a widow in tri- 
fling circumstances, and haven't a living relation but 
my one child, I wouldn't have sought to better my- 
self by bringing distress upon gentlefolk — not to 
wear a coronet upon my brow ! 

Honoria. 

That's true, ma'am. It's been all the sly doing of 
me and the young gentleman. Why did I consent 
to it? 

Mrs. Hooley. 

I was away from Llannyllyth for a couple of days, 
ma'am, leaving the cottage in Honoria's keeping 
while I took the cattle-boat to Kilb'rain to inquire 
after a little furniture I'd stored there years ago. 

Bompas. 
Yah ! bah, bah ! 

Mrs. Hooley. 
And when I got home last night, slightly pre- 
maturely, I looked up at my cottage and saw but 
one light burning, and that in my own modest sit- 
ting-room. And I said to myself, " the young gen- 
tleman's fatigued with his reading, and he's gone to 
bed with an aching head, that's evident." 

Mrs. Bompas. 

Well, well, well ! 



THE TIMES 51 

Mrs. Hooley. 
So I let myself in with my key and walked quietly in- 
to my modest sitting-room, and there I saw Honoria, 
on one side of the table, darning the young gentle- 
man's socks, and the young gentleman himself on 
the other side with a pipe in his mouth and his feet 
resting on the mantelpiece among my little orna- 
ments and lustres. 

Bompas. 
Last night ! You haven't lost much time in pay- 
ing us a visit. 

Mrs. Hooley. 

No, sir, because I thought the sooner the entire 
family had a meeting the better. 

Bompas. 

The entire ! 

Mrs. Hooley. 
So that we might all look one another in the face, 
sir, as we are now doing, and put a simple question 
to each other. 

Mrs. Bompas. 
A question ? 

Mrs. Hooley. 
The question, ma'am — what is to be done? 
Bompas. 

I'll answer that ! 

Beryl. 
Papa dear. 

Beryl. 

Let me make the first suggestion. [Sitting beside 
Honoria.] Oh, do please let me ! 



52 THE TIMES 

BOMPAS. 

Clara ! 

Mrs. Bompas. 
Beryl ! 

Beryl. 

It is, that we answer the question, "What is to be 
done ? " [taking Honoria's hand] by deciding to 
make the best of it. 

Honoria. 
Oh! 

Mrs. Hooley. 

My dear young lady ! 

Bompas. 
How dare you, how dare you, how dare you ! 

Mrs. Bompas. 
Percy ! Percy ! 

[Beryl quickly takes Honoria and Mrs. Hooley 
apart ; they are joined by Howard, and talk to- 
gether in tvhispers.] 

Bompas. 
How dare she ! A nice couple of children I've 
got. One marries a trollop, the other — the other 
makes the best of it ! 

Mrs. Bompas. 
I don't know what's come over her. Beryl ! 

Bompas. 
The best of it ! The best of it ! Hah, the best 
of it I [Glaring at Trimble, who is quietly eating 
lumps of sugar.] Complacent ass ! [To Trimble.] 
Well? ' 



THE TIMES 53 

Trimble. 
My sweet tooth. 

BOMPAS. 

I'm glad my misfortunes don't affect you. 
Trimble. 

On the contrary, dear E.-B., I was just think- 
ing 

BOMPAS. 

Thinking. Not of a way out of it ? 

Trimble. 
No, no — of a way round it. 

Bompas. 

Eh? 

Trimble. 

Being a non-smoker, munching always helps me 
to ponder, and I was recalling a case in point. 

Bompas. 

A case in point ? Case in ? Similar ? 

Trimble. 

Well, it was the instance of a dear friend of mine 
— a member of the Upper House, by-the-bye — a dear 
friend of mine, whose boy, having fallen in love with 
a common little provincial shop-girl, did the wrong 
thing by her and surreptitiously married her. 

Bompas. 
That's similar. A peer too — it happens to the 
best of us! Well? 



54 THE TIMES 

Trimble. 
Well, that girl was unencumbered by relatives 

BOMPAS. 

Like ? 

Trimble. 

Like these good people. It was bearing the widow 
say she's minus relations that put this old affair into 
my head. [Taking another piece of sugar.'] Excuse 
me. 

BOMPAS. 

But what was done? What was done? What 
was done ? 

Trimble. 

Why, my dear old friend, Lord — but I must be 
careful — my dear old friend hit upon a somewhat 
daring idea. He never revealed the circumstance 
of his son's clandestine marriage. 

Bompas. 

What good did that ? 

Trimble. 
Wait. Keeping this marriage a secret, he created 
for the poor girl, entirely out of his imagination, 
a decent if not distinguished parentage and a 
thoroughly creditable past, into which, owing to its 
fictitiousness, it was naturally impossible for his 
friends to pry. 

BOMPAS. 

He pretended the girl — was a — lad} 7 , you mean ? 

Trimble. 
Certainly — and he made her one. He took her to 



THE TIMES 55 

his heart — clear fellow ! — had her manners and her 
orthography duly polished, and eventually he pre- 
sented to the world as the fiancee of his son a young 
person fitted in all outward essentials to adorn 
Society. 

Bompas. 
By Jove ! 

Trimble. 

The wedding took place at St. Peter's, Seaton 
Square. Everybody was radiant and happy, espe- 
cially the boy's father. 

Bo MP AS. 

The father ! 

Trimble 

Yes — pardonably proud of having saved Society 
from a scandal and his son from a mesalliance. 

Bompas. 

But it was a fraud, a cheat, a humbug ! 

Trimble. 

Well, well — but everybody was benefited. Of 
course, I really ought not to have mentioned it, dear 
E.-B., only the likeness between the two cases 

Bompas. 
But you wouldn't — if you had a boy who made a 
fool of himself — you wouldn't — you wouldn't — would 
you ? 

Trimble. 
Dear friend, I frankly own that in such a predica- 
ment I should do all a father could do to — to — to 
preserve his son's self-respect. 



56 THE TIMES 

BOMPAS. 

Oh! 

Trimble. 
It was in that parental spirit that I assisted 
Lord — , my other dear old friend. 

Bompas. 
You — you helped him? 

Trimble. 
Yes. [Helping himself to another lump of sugar.] 

Bompas. 

[To himself] No, no — youd do it, but /wouldn't. 
After all, fair trade hasn't done so badly for me, 
and, if it wasn't for Clara, I sometimes think I'd — 

I'd- 

[Mrs. Hooley's voice rises discordantly above the 
others for a moment.] 

Bompas. 
Ugh ! Monty ! Tell me your plan again ! Tell 
me auain ! 



END OF THE FIRST ACT. 



THE SECOND ACT 

The scene is still the reception-room of the Egerton- 
Bompas's ; it is a summer morning, but a month 
later than the events of the preceding Act. 

Mrs. Bompas sits alone, meditating upon a letter she 
holds in her hand. She does not notice Jelf, who 
stands by the door awaiting her orders. 

Jelf. 

The bell rang, ma'am. 

Mrs. Bompas. 

Eh? Oh, yes. Tell them upstairs that Miss 
Mountrafford's new governess arrives to-day at — 
what time ? Where is Miss Cazalet's note ? Oh ! 
[reading to herself] "Dearest Mrs. Egerton-Bompas, 
how delightful of you to offer to take my little niece 
into your household as Miss Mountrafford's help and 
companion. As for Lucy, she is dying to devote 
herself to your son's charming fiancee. I'll bring her 

to you myself to-morrow morning at eleven " 

[to Jelf] Miss Tuck will be here at eleven. 

Jelf. 
Yes, ma'am. 

[Jelf leaves the room as Beryl comes in, dressed 
for going out] 



5S THE TIMES 

Beryl. 

[Coldly.] Good morning, mamma. 

Mrs. Bompas. 

Are you off out, dear ? 

Beryl. 

Lady Ripstow and Lord Lurgashall are coming 
for me at eleven, to take me to see Burne-Jones's 
pictures. 

Mrs. Bompas. 

You haven't kissed me, Beryl. 

Beryl. 

[Kissing her forehead.'] I forgot. 

Mrs. Bompas. 
[2b herself.] Forgot ! 

Beryl. 
[Constrainedly.] How is papa to-day? 

Mrs. Bompas. 

I've not seen him yet. The House sat late and he 
slept in his dressing-room, to avoid disturbing me. 
How unkind you are to all of us, Beryl ! 

Beryl. 
I can't help it. 

Mrs. Bompas. 

And how rude you were to Mrs. Mount raffbrd and 
Miss Mountrafford at Lady Cleaver's party last night. 



THE TIMES 59 

Beryl. 
Mrs. Mountrafford ! You mean Mrs. Hooley ! 

Mrs. Bompas. 
Hush ! 

Beryl. 

Miss Mountrafford ! My brother Howard's wife ! 

Mrs. Bompas. 
Be quiet ! 

Beryl. 

I feel I can't remain quiet ! I have an impulse to 
rush on to the balcony, or on to the doorstep, and 
cry out to the passers-by, "Look here, this is a 
house of imposture ! " 

Mrs. Bompas. 

Don't shout like that ! 

Beryl. 

And when Denham calls — Denham, who believes 
so in my truthfulness — I am in danger of looking 
straight into his eyes and saying "Denham, Howard 
is married — married — and this is the house which 
contains his young wife and Mrs. Hooley, her silly, 
simpering mother ! " 

Mrs. Bompas. 
You'll be heard ! 

Beryl. 

"Yes, yes, yes — this is the house where two 
humble, ignorant people are dressed up, and made 
images of, and called Mountrafford, but they are 
nothing but Hooleys, Hooleys, Hooleys ! " 



60 . THE TIMES 

Mrs. Bompas. 

You'll drive me distracted ! I shan't be able to 
struggle through the season ! 

Beryl. 

[Picking up a newspaper.] More of it ! Have you 
seen this? 

Mrs. Bompas. 

No — yes — I don't know — of course I have. 
Beryl. 

One of the " High Life " paragraphs in this week's 
Womankind [reading]: "The elements of romance 
are certainly not wanting in connection with the ap- 
proaching marriage of Mr. Howard Egerton-Bompas, 
the son of the popular member for St. Swithin's, 
and the wealthy Miss Corisande Shafto Honoria 
Mountrafford, whose advent with her delightful 
mother has already done much to interest and charm 
society." How awful ! 

Mrs. Bompas. 
Monty — Mr. Trimble— made these people Moun- 
traffords. It has been considered advisable. It is 
scarcely for women like ourselves to question the 
Avisdoin of men like papa and Monty Trimble. 

Beryl. 
"We can only hope that Mrs. Mountrafford will 
some day find leisure to publish a brief history of 
her extraordinary missionary labours among the 
American aborigines." 

Mrs. Bompas. 
We were obliged to account for her past in a 



THE TIMES 61 

creditable way. We have been guided solely by 
Monty. 

Beryl. 

"Surely even the varied pages of fiction present 
nothing more fascinating than the picture of this phil- 
anthropic widow -lady and her fair- haired daughter 
dwelling for years in almost intimate association with 
the rude remnants of the scattered Indian tribes." 

Mrs. Bompas. 
D-d-don't, Beryl, don't. 

Beryl. 
I will ! 

Mrs. Bompas. 

Hush ! Here she is. 

Beryl. 
Mrs. Hooley? 

Mrs. Bompas. 

No — Mountrafford. 

Beryl. 
Hooley. 

Mrs. Bompas. 
Mountrafford ! 

Beryl. 

[Flourishing the journal] Hooley, Hooley, Hooley ! 

[Mrs. Hooley and Honoria, both fashionably 
dressed, enter the room.] 

Mrs. Hooley. 
Good morning, Mrs. Egerton-Bompas — good 
morning, Beryl dear. Did you fear you'd never see 



62 THE TIMES 

us this beautiful morning? Oh, the fascinating 
party last night ! 

Honoeia. 

[Speaking with her mouth full of sweetmeats.] 
Good morning. Will you taste my pralines ? 

[Mrs. Bompas and Beryl decline.] 

Mrs. Hooley. 

[Posing.] I'm anxious for your opinion on my new 
frock. My maid declares it's Honoria's sister I'll get 
taken for. 

Mrs. Bompas. 

I'm afraid the woman means the gown is too 
youthful for you. 

Mrs. Hooley. 

And why should I have years put on me when I'm 
just commencing to enjoy life ? Do you fancy I re- 
quire taking-in anywhere? 

[Mrs, Bompas arranges Mrs. Hooley's dress.] 

HONORIA. 

[To Beryl.] Another day, and you'll not be good 
friends with me ? 

Beryl. 

I want to be friends with you, very badly — only 
friendship must be founded on mutual respect, 
mustn't it? 

HONORIA. 

No, must it? [Popping a sweetmeat into her mouth.] 
Sure, I don't know. 



THE TIMES 63 

Beryl. 

Of course it must. And how can we respect each 
other ? 

HONORIA. 

And why not, will you tell me ? 

Beryl. 

Why, you couldn't respect a girl you found telling 
a — a lie, could you ? 

Honoria. 
Oh, yes, I could, if I liked her well enough. 

Beryl. 

Ah, you'll never see things rightly ! [Showing her 
the newspaper.'] Look there ! you couldn't be good 
friends with a girl who lived and acted all that, could 
you? 

HONORIA. 

Oh, mother darling, here's more about us — here's 
more about us ! [They read the paper together.'] 

Mrs. Hooley. 

Ah, look at this now ! Oh, the complimentary 
allusions ! 

Honoria. 

See here, mother ! Oh, the flattering comments ! 

[Jelf enters, and at the same moment a few chords on 
a piano in another room are heard.] 

Mrs. Bompas. 
What's that? 



64 THE TIMES 

Jelf. 

Mrs. Cormanti and her young lady assistants are 
here, ma'am. [He goes out.] 

Mrs. Bompas. 

The dancing-mistress, in the choral drawing-room ! 

Mrs. Hooley. 

Sure, we're taking our lessons there now because 
of the beautiful floor. Do you mind what follows 
the waltz this morning, Honoria, darling? 

Honoria. 
I do, mother — the Dance of the Sylphs. 

Mrs. Bompas. 
The Dance of the Sylphs ! 

Mrs. Hooley. 

It's an elegant pas tie doo — for two people — Hono- 
ria and me ! 

Mrs. Bompas. 
You! 

Mrs. Hooley. 

And why not ? It'll be wanted during the season, 
Madame Cormanti says, for the cause of some blessed 
charity. \ The piano is heard again.] We're coming, 
Madame Cormanti dear, we're coming ! 

[Mrs. Hooley and Honoria leave the room.] 

Beryl. 

[Putting her arm round Mrs. Bompas.] Oh, mamma, 
mamma 1 [Jelf appears at the door.] 



THE TIMES 65 

Jelf. 

Mr. Trimble is coming upstairs, ma'am. 

Beryl. 

How I detest that man ! 

[She goes out, as Trimble enters gaily.] 

Trimble. 

Aha, dear Mrs. E.-B. 

Mrs. Bompas. 

I am glad you're in town again. 

Trimble. 
My poor dear brother is so much better that I 
was able to get back last night, just in time to pop 
into Lady Cleaver's. It cheered me to meet yon all 
there ; ah, the anxiety of nursing the sick — terrible ! 
Dear E.-B. not visible yet, I hear. 

Mrs. Bompas. 
No. 

Trimble. 

And our new clear friends, Mrs. — ah — Mountraf- 

ford and Miss Mountrafford — what progress have 

they made in the arts and graces while I've been 

away? Are we putting the finishing touches, h'm? 

[The air of a waltz is heard.] 

Mrs. Bompas. 
They are taking their dancing-lesson now. 

Trimble. 
Good. And the younger lady's French — we are 
helping her with a few indispensable phrases ? 



66 THE TIMES 

Mrs. Bompas. 

Ah, I was obliged to pack off the French govern- 
ess in a hurry. 

Trimble. 
Why? 

Mrs. Bompas. 

She pried too much. 

Trimble. 

H'm, dangerous. Get somebody else. 

Mrs. Bompas. 

I've engaged Miss Tuck, Kate Cazalet's little 
niece. 

Trimble. 

The relative of a friend — is that quite judicious? 

Mrs. Bompas. 
The poor girl always lias a headache, and seems 
too spiritless to be inquisitive. 

Trimble. 
Well, well, then everything is going on charm- 
ingly. [Eating a lozenge.] Really, I am not a senti- 
mental man, but I do tbink we ought to feel pro- 
foundly grateful. 

Mrs. Bompas. 
Grateful ? 

Trimble. 

When we consider how eminently presentable 

these dear people are. I watched them at Lady 

Cleaver's last night, and I felt proud of my small 

share in improving their condition in life, honestly 



THE TIMES 67 

proud. Yes, dear friend, let us feel deeply grateful, 
unreservedly happy. 

Mas. Bompas. 

Monty ! 

Trimble. 

You're not worried about anything surely ! 

Mrs. Bompas. 
Yes, there's something I'm keeping from Percy. 

Trimble. 
Keeping from him ? 

Mrs. Bompas. 

Well, haven't told him. His temper has become 
so ungovernable since our misfortune that I'm al- 
most frightened to tell him. Here ! Monty — 
heaven forgive me for my vulgarity ! — but tins con- 
founded Irish widow has actually picked xvp a sweet- 
heart. 

Trimble. 

No ! Why didn't you write to me ? Has it gone 
far? 

Mrs. Bompas. 

He's after her every hour of the day ; he left a 
note here yesterday — here, with some flowers. 

Trimble. 
Who's the beast ? 

Mrs. Bompas. 
Why, the creature my husband hates of all men 
in the world ; that's the reason I've held my tongue, 
hoping I was wrong in my conclusions. 



68 THE TIMES 

Trimble. 
Well, but -who, who, who ? 

Mrs. Bompas. 

The little reptile who ridicules Percy in the 
House, the member for Ballymara. 

Trimble. 
Mr. McShane ! 

Mrs. Bompas. 

Timothy McShane. 

Trimble. 

Damn ! Ah, excuse my breach of manners — I 
haven't sworn for years. 

Mrs. Bompas. 
Sit down. 

Trimble. 
Dear Mrs. E.-B. ! 

Mrs. Bompas. 
The silly woman met him first at Mrs. Shekle- 
ton's crush, the night Honoria made her debut as 
Miss Mountrafford. Of course, after all, she's only 
eight-and-thirty, and she wore one of my diamond 
necklaces. 

Trimble. 
I know — I know. 

Mrs. Bompas. 
Well, the Sunday following I fell over them with 
their heads together at Church Parade. And this 
last week I've seen them everywhere — picture gal- 
leries — shops 



THE TIMES 69 

Trimble. 
Bless my soul ! 

Mrs. Bompas. 

And, if they are really in love, don't you realize 
the volcano we're all sitting upon ? 

Trimble. 

I certainly perceive 

Mrs. Bompas. 

That she's a weak-brained, vain creature with no 
prudence, no — no 

Trimble. 
No invention ! 

Mrs. Bompas. 

And suppose the fool of a man proposes to her ? 

Trimble. 

Why, you don't apprehend ! 

Mrs. Bompas. 

Suppose in a moment of middle-aged emotion she 
confided in him. 

Trimble. 



Confided ? 
Our secret. 
Oh! 



Mrs. Bompas. 

Trimble. 
Mrs. Bompas. 



She couldn't marry without doing so. Monty, in 
mercy's name, shut your mouth and collect yourself ! 



70 THE TIMES 

Trimble. 

My dear Mrs. E.-B., I— I frankly, I— I candidly 
admit this is a contingency which even I did not 
anticipate. 

[Jelf enters, carrying a large basket of flowers.} 

Jelf. 

For Mrs. Mountrafford, ma'am. 

Mbs. Bompas. 

Stop ! D-d-don't disturb Mrs. Mountrafford now. 
P-put it down. 

[Jelf deposits the basket on the table and goes 
out.] 

Mrs. Bompas. 
What did I tell you ? 

Trimble. 
His card is attached to it. 

Mrs. Bompas. 
I saw that. 

Trimble. 

[Reading card.] "Mr. Timothy McShane." A 
message, in pencil. 

Mrs. Bompas. 
I thought so. Bead it ! 

Teimble. 

Forgive me, dear Mrs. E.-B. — certain things I 
cannot do. 

[He hands the basket to Mrs. Bompas ; she read* 
the message.] 



THE TIMES 71 

Mrs. Bompas. 
All! 

Trimble. 

Pray relieve my anxiety. 

Mrs. Bompas. 

"Shall present myself in the course of the clay to 
settle matters." 

Trimble. 

This gentleman is unmistakably serious in his 
intentions. 

Mrs. Bompas. 
Advise me. 

Trimble. 

Dear E.-B. must put his foot down at once. 

Mrs. Bompas. 
Yes, yes. But what a scene there will be ! Who 
is to tell him. Monty, will you V 

Trimble. 

No, no — you break the ice. I must not be sus- 
pected of a desire to unduly intrude. 

[Jelp appears.] 

Jelf. 

Miss Cazalet — Miss Tuck. 

Mrs. Bompas. 

Bother the people — at this moment ! 

[Miss Cazalet enters mth Lucy Tuck. Jelf with- 
draws.] 



72 THE TIMES 

Miss Cazalet. 

[Kissing Mrs. Bompas.] Dear Mrs. Egerton-Bom- 

pas ! 

Mrs. Bompas. 

So pleased to see you. 

Miss Cazalet. 

I've brought my little mouse. How d'ye do, Mr. 
Trimble ? 

Trimble. 
We meet too seldom. 

Lucy. 
[To Mrs. Bompas.] I will do my best to be ser- 
viceable to you and Miss — Miss — Mountrafford, is it? 

Mrs. Bompas. 
Y-yes, Mountrafford. 

Lucy. 
All, you don't know how much it means to me to 
feel independent. 

Mrs. Bompas. 
Child ! 

Lucy. 
I — I mean, to feel myself not a burden upon — 
upon my — my — my aunt. 

Mrs. Bompas. 
I'll call Honoria. [She opens the door.] 

Mrs. Bompas. 
Honoria ! Oh, that ridiculous old woman ! The 
dance of the Sylphs ! Stop ! 

[She goes out, and the music ceases.] 



THE TIMES 73 

Miss Cazalet. 

[To Trimble.] Now it's truly friendly of you to ask 
after the Morning Message. 

Trimble. 

One of the most valuable newspapers in London, 
I consider. 

Miss Cazalet. 

You know I call it my poor, ailing, rickety baby. 
Well, the Morning Message is — teething. It may 
outlive its infantile complaints 

Trimble. 
It must. 

Miss Cazalet. 

But, oh, people won't advertise as much as a lost 
dog in it. And then, I have such trouble with its 
nurses — I mean, its editors. 

Trimble. 
[Smothering a yawn.] I'm profoundly sorry. 

Miss Cazalet. 
The first was knocked down by a four-wheeler, and 
is now contributing a depressing series of articles 
called "Happy Hospitals." The second departed 
abruptly last night. 

Trimble. 
111? 

Miss Cazalet. 

Heartbroken ; wanted to marry — you know whom. 
And I'm left with a sub-editor with a large head 
and limited experience. Oh ! All my life I've tired 
of a new toy after a fortnight, and I've been the 



74 THE TIMES 

real live proprietress of this influential journal for a 
whole month ! Ugh ! 

[Honokia enters with Mrs. Bompas.] 

Miss Cazalet. 

[Kissing Honoria.] My dear Miss Mountrafford. 
[Lucy and Honoria shake hands.] 

Honoria. 
[To Lucy.] I'm glad you've come. 

Lucy. 
Oh, thank you. 

Honoria. 

[Confidentially.] We'll have a fine time of it if 
you'll not bother me with your instruction. Have a 
praline ? 

Mrs. Bompas. 

Honoria, take Miss Tuck upstairs yourself, and 
make her feel at home. 

Honoria. 

I'll do that. [Honoria and Lucy go out.] 

Miss Cazalet. 

Let me see my little mouse's gilded cage — may I ? 
[She follows Honoria and Lucy.] 

Mrs. Bompas. 

Oh! all these people ! [to Trimble.] Monty, Monty, 
find out if Percy is in the library yet ; if so, tell 
him I must speak to him at once, at once. 



THE TIMES 75 

Trimble. 
Bless me, yes — at once. Dear Mrs. E.-B 

Mrs. Bompas. 
What now ? 

Trimble. 

H'm, I don't think I should make such a very close 
friend of Miss Cazalet. 

Mrs. Bompas. 
She makes herself a friend. 

Trimble. 

I should check it. I always recommend that 
friendships should be regulated with a view to 
future disagreements. 

Mrs. Bompas. 

But we are not going to disagree. 

Trimble. 

I hope not ; I'm sure she's not a person one would 
derive any pleasure from offending. 

Mrs. Bompas. 
Oh, try and find Percy ! 

Trimble. 
Ah, dear E.-B. 

[He goes out, as Jelf appears at the door.] 

Jelf. 

Lady Ripstow and Lord Lurgashall are waiting 
for Miss Beryl in their carriage, ma'am. 



76 THE TIMES 

Mrs. Bompas. 

I'll find Miss Beryl and bring her downstairs. 

[She goes out quickly.'] 
Jelf. 

[At the door.] I wasn't aware that your ladyship 
was coming up. 

[Lady Bipstow and Denham enter. Jelf withdraws.] 
Lady Bipstow. 

Yes, Denham, I have indeed observed a serious 
change in Beryl. 

Denham. 

It worries me dreadfully, mother. 

Lady Bipstow. 

A coolness of manner 

Denham. 
Towards myself. 

Lady Bipstow. 

Even to me. An abruptness of speech 

Denham. 
To both of us. 

Lady Bipstow. 

Followed by a suffusion of the eyes. 

Denham. 

For the life of me, I can't guess the reason. 

Lady Bipstow. 
Ah, but / can. 



THE TIMES 77 

Den ham. 
Mother ! 

Lady Ripstow. 
Unless I am gravely mistaken, the pardonable 
cause of Beryl's distress of mind is — will you hear 
it? 

Denham. 
Go on. 

Lady Ripstow. 

It is that, notwithstanding all the diplomatic ad- 
vances of the Egerton-Bompases, your father has 
never called. 

Denham. 
Bah ! 

Lady Ripstow. 
Denham ! 
[Miss Cazalet enters, and is momentarily disconcert- 
ed at seeing Lady Ripstow and Denham.] 

Miss Cazalet. 
Oh, how d'ye do ? And how do you do, Lady 
Ripstow ? 

Lady Ripstow. 
Miss Cazalet ! 

Miss Cazalet. 

And how is Lord Ripstow ? 
Denham. 

[Placing himself between Lady Ripstow and Miss 
Cazalet.] In spite of advancing years Lord Ripstow 
has only one infirmity, Miss Cazalet. 

Miss Cazalet. 
Only one now ? And that ? 



78 THE TIMES 

Denham. 

The infirmity of forgetting certain former ac- 
quaintances. 

Miss Cazalet. 

Or of brooding over them. Poor old age ! 

Lady Ripstow. 
[To Denham.] The second time this lias occurred ! 

Denham. 

I hear, her niece 

Lady Ripstow. 

Before to-day is over Mrs. Egerton-Bompas shall 
know that if that woman is received here I will 
never enter this house again : she shall choose be- 
tween me and Miss Cazalet. 

[Mrs. Bompas and Beryl enter.] 
Mrs. Bompas. 
Oh, my dear Lady Ripstow — Lord Lurgashall ! 
Beryl ! 

[Bompas, ivho is very excited, enters, followed by 
Trimble. ] 

Bompas. 
[Kissing Beryl.] Hah, Berry, my dear, I've some 
wonderful news for you. Eh ? Oh ! How d'ye do, 
how d'ye do, how d'ye do ? Glad you're all here — 
I've good news for everybody. Aha, what d'ye 
think, what d'ye think? Guess now, guess, guess! 

Mrs. Bompas. 
Hush ! Percy, what is it ? 



THE TIMES 79 

BOMPAS. 

My chance has come ! 

Mrs. Bompas. 
Chance ? 

Bompas. 

Why, a great compliment has been paid me — an 
enormous compliment. To-night, you know, fin- 
ishes this big full-dress debate on the Irish Ques- 
tion, and the Whips have asked me to speak. 

Mrs. Bompas. 

Oh, Percy ! 

Bompas. 

To speak ! [To Denham and Lady Bipstow, shaking 
hands with them suddenly.'] I didn't shake hands, did 
I? Excuse me. 

Bompas. 

There have been people who've said "Egerton- 
Bompas will never do anything in the House." 
"Won't he!" I've thought. "Once in, he'll never 
open his mouth " — thousands have said that. Ha, 
ha, ha ! [Shaking hands icith Mrss Cazalet.] Did I 
shake hands '? My head's so full of my speech ; it 
isn't that success alters me at all. Here, you'll all 
.want to come down to the House to-night, of course ? 

Lady Bipstow. 

I fear 

Bompas. 
Oh, I can manage it — there's nothing I can't man- 
age. I've got seats in the ladies' gallery, and 
another man will give me his. That'll be two 
Egerton-Bompases, one Bipstow, one Cazalet — 



80 THE TIMES 

Miss Cazalet. 
At what time are you likely to speak? 

Bompas. 
About nine o'clock. 

Miss Cazalet. 

H'ni, during the dinner-hour, isn't it ? 

Bompas. 

Yes. [Struck by the look on Miss Cazalet's face.] 
Oh ! Well, some men — like — speaking- — during the 
dinner-hour. Eh? 

Miss Cazalet. 

Delightful — such freedom from interruption. [To 
Mrs. Bompas.] Send word to Boswell Court, dear, 
when and where I am to join you — wire "Feverheat, 
London." Don't stir! Good-bye all! Or telephone, 
3033. Lady Ripstow! [She goes out] 

Bompas. 

[To Lady Ripstow.] I've the notes of my speech 
in the library ; I've been up half the night over it. 
I expect you'd like to hear 

Lady Ripstow. 
Pray excuse me this morning. Lurgashall, are 
you ready ? 

Bompas. 
Going out, Berry ? Proud of your father, hey ? 
Proud of him ? 

Beryl. 
Oh, papa! 



THE TIMES 81 

Trimble. 

May I put Lady Ripstow into her carriage? 
[To Mrs. Bompas.] Your opportunity. 

[Lady Ripstow and Trimble go out] 
Bompas. 

[Slupping Denham on the back as he passes.] Lucky 
dog! 

Mrs. Bompas. 

Good-bye, children. 

[Beryl and Denham leave the room together.] 

Mrs. Bompas. 
Now ! 

Bompas. 

Clara ! Aha, old lady, give me a kiss. [She kisses 
him.] So, they've found me out at last, hey ? 

Mrs. Bompas. 
Found you out ? 

Bompas. 

Found out my value. This is a gigantic oppor- 
tunity — by Jove, it is ! Nice flowers you've got here. 

• 

Mrs. Bompas. 

Percy dear 

Bompas. 

First of all, Clara, I mean to let that little beast 
McShane have it — straight from the shoulder. 

Mrs. Bompas. 
Percy, I — I want to 



82 THE TIMES 

BOMPAS. 

[Selecting a rose and putting it in his buttonhole.'] 
Who sent you these? Lovely perfume. Straight 
from the shoulder ! Mr. Timothy McShane hasn't 
nicknamed me "Blankets" for nothing. Blankets ! 

Mrs. Bompas. 
Percy ! 

Bompas. 

Eh? [Turning the basket of floivers about.] I'm 
looking for a bit of green. 

Mrs. Bompas. 

I've something to tell you that may — put you out. 

Bompas. 

Ha, ha ! Things are going too well for that, old 

lady. What is it, a big cheque, or a ? [Beading 

the card attached to the basket.] "Mr. Timothy 
McShane." Mr.— Timothy— McShane. Clara? 

Mrs. Bompas. 
Mr. McShane left that, or sent it. 

Bompas. 
The coward ! The — the worm ! So he guesses I 
mean to have a slap at him to-night, does he ? And 
he thinks to quiet me by sending you — a few — 

paltry ! 

[He tears the flower from his coat and is about 
to attack the basket.] 

Mrs. Bompas. 
No, no, they're not sent to me. 



THE TIMES 83 

BOMPAS. 

What d'ye mean ? 

Mrs. Bompas. 
They're— Mrs. Mountrafford's. 

Bompas. 

Eh? 

Mrs. Bompas. 

Read the other side. 

Bompas. 
[Beading.] " Shall present myself in the course of 
the day to settle matters." W-what matters? 

Mrs. Bompas. 
L-l-love matters. He has — fallen in love — with — 
Mrs. Mountrafford. Percy ! 

Bompas. 

[In a rage.] What's been going on ? 

Mrs. Bompas. 

Nothing — not much. They were introduced to 
each other at Mrs. Shekleton's. Since then— they've 
me t — here and there— occasionally. I didn't attach 
much importance to it at first ; I tried not to, know- 
ing how the very name of McShane infuriates you. 
But now the matter — has grown — too serious 

Bompas. 
Serious ! serious ! 

Mrs. Bompas. 
Yes, yes, because you see, Percy — you see 



84 THE TIMES 

BoMPAS. 

See ! What ? 

Mrs. Bompas. 

That if he proposes to her, as he evidently means 

to 

Bompas. 
Marriage ! 

Mrs. Bompas. 

Of course, marriage. Then, Percy — Percy ! then 
she would either have to refuse him or to — to — tell 
him! 

Bompas. 

To tell him— tell him ! Ahhh ! 

Mrs. Bompas. 

Percy, you mustn't give way to these uncontrol- 
lable fits of anger ! We — we never calculated for 
this. We forgot she's not at all a bad-looking 

woman 

Bompas. 

Cat ! I hate her ! A simpering cat ! 

Mrs. Bompas. 
We mustn't be upset by this — this trifle. We 
must seud for her and — coax her 

Bompas. 
Coax her ! Cat ! 

Mrs. Bompas. 

And when Mr. McShane calls 

Bompas. 
I — I could see him strangled on the floor of the 



THE TIMES 85 

House ! I could ! And he — dares to — to come after 
my widow ! 

Mrs. Bompas. 

Not your widow. 

Bompas. 

She's ours, body and boots. We've bought her. 
I've bought her, — and paid for her ! 

Mrs. Bompas. 
Not so loud ! 

Bompas. 

Aud now she'd get me into a mess, would she ! 
She'd expose me, would she, me and my family ! 
She'd ruin me ! Ruin me ! 

Mrs. Bompas. 
Percy, these rages are dreadful ! 

Bompas. 
Old mother Hooley ! Cat ! 

Mrs. Bompas. 
You who declare you'll some day attain the high- 
est position — you'll never do it with such a temper ! 

Bompas. 
Won't I ! Won't I ! You'll see if I don't ! 

You'll ! 

Mrs. Bompas. 
There, there — hush, hush ! You're all of a trem- 
ble. 

Bompas. 
McShane ! Blankets ! 



86 THE TIMES 

Mrs. Bompas. 

Sit down, darling, and talk it over with Clara. 
That's right— that's right ! 

[He sinks on to the settee in a heap.] 

Mrs. Bompas. 
Now you're yourself agaiu, aren't you? 

Bompas. 
McShane and our — cat ! 

Mrs. Bompas. 

We'll soon put matters straight — you and I, old 
man — you and I. 

[Trimble ente?s quietly.] 

Trimble. 

[To Mrs. Bompas, in a whisper.] Well? 

Mrs. Bompas. 
He's had one. 

Trimble. 
Bad ? 

Mrs. Bompas. 
Shocking ! Percy darling — here's Monty. 

[Bompas raises himself slowly and looks at Trim- 
ble.] 

Trimble. 
[Taking a lozenge.] H'm, this has rather upset 
you, dear E.-B. 

Bompas. 
No — not very well — overwork. What's got to be 
done — about this? What's — got — to be ? 



THE TIMES 87 

Trimble. 

Dear friend, there's not the remotest cause for 
discomposure. In the first place, allow me to ring 
the bell. 

Mrs. Bompas. 

[Smiling at Bompas encouragingly.] Monty is so 
useful. 

Trimble. 

Having summoned the servant, I suggest you give 
instructions that everybody is distinctly out to Mr. 
McShane. 

Mrs. Bompas. 
Out. 

Bompas. 

Out. [Jelf appears.'] Look here! If a man named 
McShane presumes to show his 

Mrs. Bompas. 
Percy ! 

Trimble. 

Jelf, if Mr. McShane calls — you know him ? 

Jelf. 

Short gentleman, with flowers, sir. 

Bompas. 

Short 

Mrs. Bompas. 
Hush ! 

Trimble. 

You are quite right — out. No matter whom he 
inquires for — out. 



88 THE TIMES 

Mrs. Bompas. 
Out. 

Bompas. 
Out. 

Jelf. 
Not at home, sir. [Jelf withdraws.] 

Bompas. 
I've done that ! 

Trimble. 

Now, all you have to do further is to see Mrs. 

Mountrafford 

Bompas. 

Cat! 

Trimble. 

And, in a few well-chosen, temperate words, in- 
form her that this sort of thing emphatically will 
not do. [ The music is heard again.] 

Bompas. 
What's that? 

Mrs. Bompas. 

She is taking her dancing lesson 



[Bompas makes excitedly for the door.] 
Trimble. 

[Stopping him.] No, no, dear E.-B., you must 
pledge your word that you will conduct this inter- 
view in a reasonable, moderate 

Mrs. Bompas. 

Statesmanlike 

Trimble. 

Statesmanlike fashion. Certainly, statesmanlike. 



THE TIMES 89 

BOMPAS. 

Statesmanlike? I understand. You shall see. 
Trimble. 



Good ! 



BOMPAS. 



[To Mrs. Bompas.] You said my temper would 
keep me from attaining a big position ! 

Mrs. Bompas. 

Yes, but 

Bompas. 

You did ! Well, you'll see whether I can com- 
mand myself. 

Trimble. 

That's right, dear E.-B. ! 

Bompas. 
Bring her in, Monty. Percy Egerton-Bompas has 
no dignity, no self-restraint, hasn't he ! I'll show 
you. 

Trimble. 

[Opening the door and calling.] Good morning, 
dear Mrs. Mountrafford. Ah, you almost tripped ! 
[The music stops abruptly, and Mrs. Hooley ap- 
pears in the doorway.] 

Mrs. Hooley. 

[Breathlessly.] Oh, Mr. Trimble ! Oh, the intox- 
ication of the dance ! [Trimble goes out.] 

Mrs. Hooley. 
It's one trifling movement I'll never conquer. 



90 THE TIMES 

"One — two — three — and — four." Sure, the "and — 
four," will break the heart of me. [Trimble returns.] 

Trimble. 

[To Bompas.] I've dismissed Cormanti. 

Mrs. Hooley. 

[Practising.] One — two — three — and — and 

Bompas. 
Be seated, ma'am. 

Mrs. Hooley. 

Ah ! The turn you gave me ! 

Bompas. 

Mrs. Everard Shafto Mountrafford ! 

Mrs. Hooley. 

Yes? 

Bompas. 

A basket of flowers has been left for you at my 

door 

Mrs. Hooley. 
A bookay ! 

Bompas. 

This basket of Where is it ? Where is it ? 

Mrs. Bompas. 

All right, dear — here. 

[She pushes the basket from beneath the table.] 

Trimble. 
Here. 



THE TIMES 91 

BOMPAS. 

[Snatching the basket.] It's thrown me out — thrown 
me out. 

Mrs. Bompas. 

[Quietly to Bompas.] No, uo — capital, Percy. 

Trimble. 
Excellent beginning, dear friend. 

Bompas. 

Attached to this basket, Mrs. Mountrafford, I 
find a card. [He looks vainly for the card.] 

Trimble. 
Certainly, a card. 

Mrs. Hooley. 
A card ! 

Bompas. 
Where's the thing gone to? Where is it? 

Trimble. 
Are you looking for the card, E.-B. ? 

Bompas. 
[Grabbing the card from Trimble, who is smoothing 
it out.] Looking for the ! 

Mrs. Bompas. 
Percy ! 

Trimble. 
Dear friend ! 

Bompas. 
Er — the — ah — if — when Thrown out com- 
pletely ! 



92 THE TIMES 

Trimble. 

[In a whisper.] Hand it to her. 

Bompas. 

Leave me alone. [Giving the basket to Mrs. 
Hooley.] There, ma'am. 

Mrs. Hooley. 
My card ! 

Bompas. 
Take it ! 

Mrs. Hooley. 

[Beading the card.] Oh, look at this now! Oh, 
the politeness of it ! Oh, the ! 

Bompas. 

[Silencing Trimble and. Mrs. Bompas.] Don't in- 
terfere ! [To Mrs. Hooley.] So, ma'am, so, Mrs. 
Mountrafford, this is the return you make me, me, 
me! 

Mrs. Hooley. 

And I should like to know, Mr. Egerton-Bompas, 
what you've got to complain of ! 

Bompas. 
Complain of ! Who has rescued you from — from 
obscure poverty, ma'am, you and your — your brat ! 

Mrs. Bompas. 
Percy ! 

Tremble. 
E.-B. ! 

Bompas. 
Silence ! Who has received you into his domes- 



THE TIMES 93 

tic circle, his sacred domestic circle ? Who has 
placed you upon a social level with his own family, 
mercifully thrown the — the — the veil of oblivion 
over your humble origin, and opened to you the — 
the — the gates of the most exclusive society in the 
world ? 

Mrs. Bompas. 
Quite so, dear. 

Trimble. 
This is admirable. 

Bompas. 

Who, placing his son's happiness above every other 
consideration, has consented to an alliance between 
that son and your daughter? W T ho ? 

Mrs. Hooley. 

And indeed, Mr. Egerton-Bompas, sir, I'm not an 
ungrateful lady. 

Bompas. 
Show it, prove it ! 

Mrs. Hooley. 

But I confess I'm not unwilling to relieve you of 
the burden of my keep and clothing. 

Bompas. 

I don't want you to relieve me of it ! I've got you ! 
I — I carry you upon my shoulders for as long as you 
choose to live ! 

Mrs. Bompas. 

Woman, you don't understand ! You couldn't 
marry now without — without 



94 THE TIMES 

Trimble. 

Without entering into a long and painful explana- 
tion. 

Mrs. Hooley. 

Philoo ! I'd explain everything in five minutes. 

Mrs. Bompas and Trimble. 
No! 

Bompas. 

Where's your refinement — where's your womanly 
feeling — where's your sense of shame ? 

\_Tliey gather round Mrs. Hooley, protesting ex- 
citedly. ] 

Mrs. Hooley. 

Have done ! Don't bustle me ! 

[She breaks away from them, pursued by Mrs. 
Bompas.] 

Bompas. 

[To Trimble.] Well? Well? 
Trimble. 

Dear friend, I — I frankly, I — I candidly admit 
that this is a complication which even I 

[Howard enters, in riding dress, with a tradesman's ac- 
count in his hand.] 

Howard. 

Morning, morning ! Jolly in the Park this morn- 
ing. 

Bompas. 

[Turning upon him furiously.] Jolly in the Park ! 



THE TIMES 05 

Howard. 

There ! At me again ! A nice time I've bad of it 
this last month ! Didn't you say I might come to 
you to-day for a cheque for my florist ? 

Bompas. 

Get out of my sight ! 

[Mrs. Bompas and Trimble lead Howard towards 
the door.] 

Howard. 

When do I do right? I dun' know ! 

Bompas. 

Bah ! 

Howard. 

I s'pose I may mention there's somebody waiting 
to see you in the library. 

Bompas. 
Where the notes of my speech are lying about ! 

Mrs. Bompas. 
Who puts a visitor there ? 
Howard. 

At me again ! Why, when I let myself in just 
now I found a man on the doorstep who wanted to 
see pa particularly. 

Trimble. 

Ah ! what name, dear young friend ? 



96 THE TIMES 

Howard. 
McSbane. 

[Bompas, Trimble, and Mrs. Bompas, stand trans- 
fixed with horror.] 

Howard. 
What now f 

Mrs. Hooley. 

Did you say Mr. McShane ? Ah, he's called to 
see my trustee. 

Trimble. 
Your trustee ? 

Mrs. Hooley. 

Well, he asked if Mr. Egerton-Bompas was my 
trustee. Sure, what was I to say, situated as I am ? 

Mrs. Bompas. 

[To Howard.] Get the notes of your father's 
speech from his table. You'll break our hearts. 

Howard. 
Wrong again ! [He goes out.] 

Mrs. Hooley. 

I'll retire to my room while the delicate interview 
takes place. Am I to understand that obstacles are 
to be thrown in our path ? 

Bompas. 
[To himself.] In my house — Blankets ! 

Trimble. 
[To Mrs. Hooley.] Everything shall be done that 



THE TIMES 97 

gentlemen can do to protect the interests of a lady 
whose welfare they have at heart. [She goes out.] 

Mrs. Bompas. 

Percy ! Be — he — be statesmanlike ! 

Bompas. 

Go after her ! Keep your eye on her ! Don't 
leave her ! 

Mrs. Bompas. 

Yes, yes. Oh, my poor Percy ! 

[She leaves them, Trimble rings the bell.] 

Bompas. 
Well? well? 

Trimble. 
Dear friend, I — I frankly, I— I candidly admit 
that this particular complication is one which even 

I Eh ? 

[Jelf enters.] 

Trimble. 
Mr. McShane is in the library. 

Jelf. 
In the library, sir ? 

Trimble. 
Show him up. 

[Jelf retires. Trimble nervously turns the key 
in the doors, leaving only one unlocked.] 

Bompas. 
Monty ? 

Trimble. 
You must be secured from interruption. 



98 THE TIMES 

BoMPAS. 

What — what's our attitude, our policy ? 
Trimble. 

To keep them apart for the next few hours. To- 
morrow we must get this iil-bred woman out of 
England, somehow. Really, I — I'm quite upset. 

BOMPAS. 

Stand by me, Monty, when the — the lies are 
wanted. 

Trimble. 

[Taking a lozenge.] Command me — command me. 
Bompas. 

Monty, don't you think that in the highest social 
and political circles a man, even to maintain his po- 
sition, may tell one lie too many ? 

Trimble. 
Hush ! Dear friend, no one deplores a falsehood 
more than myself, but, let us always remember, the 
demand creates the supply. . 

Trimble. 
But isn't there — one special moment — in a man's 
life when he'd better — resist the demand ? 

Trimble. 
Resist? 

BOMPAS. 

Y— y— yes. 

Trimble. 
Oh, my dear E.-B., in my own experience, there is 



THE TIMES 



99 



more time wasted in resisting temptation than over 

anything in this world. Hark ! 

[Jelf shoivs in Mr. Timothy McShane, a smartly 
dressed, eager, dark, little man of forty-five or 
fifty, with a pale face, restless eyes, and a high 
forehead. He carries an umbrella aggressively.] 

McShane. 
Mr. Egerton-Bompas. 

Bompas. 
Mr. McShane. 

McShane. 

[Looking at Trimble.] Mr. 

Bompas. 
Mr. Montague Trimble, my friend and confiden- 
tial adviser. 

Trimble. 
How dy'e do ? What delightful weather we're 

Bompas. 

[To McShane.] Be seated. 

[Trimble quietly locks the door.] 

McShane. 
Mr. Bompas, your political convictions and my 
own are as wide asunder as the poles. [Bompas 
bows.] That is, so far as I have been privileged to 
gather ; for hitherto your individual public policy 
has been one of intense, ardent silence. 
Bompas. 
To-night, Mr. McShane, that silence is to be 
broken. To-night 



100 THE TIMES 

McShane. 
Sir, I can promise you at least one auditor. 

BOMPAS. 

I thank you. 

McShane. 

But, Mr. Borapas, apart from our political diver- 
gence, I've noticed that there has crept insidiously 
into our personal relations a rancorous animosity. 

Bompas. 
On more than one occasion you have thought it — 
ah — decent to taunt me with my honourable associa- 
tion with — ah — er — a branch of commerce 

McShane. 
Blankets? 

Bompas. 

I do not blush to repeat the word " blankets." 
McShane. 

Mr. Bompas, a moment has arrived when private 
differences must be suspended, antipathies softened. 
It is the first time in my life I've made such a sug- 
gestion to mortal man, but the circumstances are 
exceptional. Mr. Bompas, I have been fortunate 
enough to win the affections of the sweet lady who 
now compliments you by sheltering under your roof, 
of whose worldly interests I believe you are the legal 
supervisor. 

Bompas. 

Sir, you allude, I think, to ? 

McShane. 

Mrs. Everard Shafto Mountrafford — Kathleen. 



THE TIMES 101 

Mr. Bompas, to better enable me to pay such pro- 
longed attentions to this charming lady as duty and 
inclination demand, and to give me the opportunity 
of entering freely this morning into the subject of 
the settlement of her pecuniary estate, I suggest 
there should prevail between you and me, in our 
private relations, peace. Peace — temporary or per- 
manent ! Perhaps it would be more convenient to 
both of us if we said temporary. 

[Bompas bows — they shake hands quickly and 

distrustfully. McShane then puts down his 

umbrella.] 

McShane. 

And now, sir, as Mrs. Mountrafford is not in her 
minority, I propose that she be invited to join this 
agreeable meeting. 

Bompas. 

Eh ? No, sir — out of the question. 

McShane. 
Sir! 

Bompas. 

She has expressed a desire — ah — not to be pres- 
ent. 

McShane. 

Tssh, tssh, tssh ! Kathleen will waive that objec- 
tion. 

Bompas. 

Mr. McShane, I — I — er — allow me to consult my 
friend. [To Trimble.] Eh? Eh? [They whisper 
together.] Mr. McShane, you force me to acquaint 
you with a circumstance which I would willinglv 



102 THE TIMES 

have kept from you. Mrs. Mountrafford is — sud- 
denly — indisposed. 

McShane. 
Powers ! What is it ? 

BoMPAS. 

The doctor hasn't seen her yet, but — but 

Trimble. 

I think I heard dear Mrs. Egerton-Bompas men- 
tion the unpleasant word Influenza. 

McShane. 

You don't tell me that ! Oh ! and to think of 
her as she was but yesterday ! Her gaiety ! Her 
flow of animal spirits ! [Snatching up his umbrella 
and turning excitedly to Bompas.] Sue is in your 
house, Mr. Bompas ! I warn you, sir ! You are 
answerable for the welfare of this charming lady ! 

Bompas. 
[ To Trimble. ] Well ? Well ? 

Trimble. 
A rude wild beast. 

McShane. 
I can't, I won't, realise it ! This graceful, this 
vivacious lady. Is she in bed or out ? 

[Trimble and Bompas consult together.] 

Bompas. 
Out! 

McShane. 
Out! 



THE TIMES 103 

BOMPAS. 

In. In and out. 

McShane. 
Restless ? 

BOMPAS. 

Uneasy. 

McShane. 

[Shaking his fist close to BoMPAs's/ace.] Take care 
of her, sir ! Take care of her ! 

Bompas. 
Mr. McShane ! 

Trimble. 
Really ! 

McShane. 

Mr. Bompas, I apologise for that gesture. It was 
uncontrollable. [Trimble prompts Bompas.] 

Bompas. 

Eh? Yes. [To McShane.] May I suggest that 
under the circumstances it would hardly be — be 

Trimble. 
Chivalrous. 

Bompas. 
Chivalrous to — to 

McShane. 

Spare your hints, sir. My distress of mind would 
not permit me to discuss Mrs. Mountrafford's pe- 
cuniary affairs while that accomplished, that amiable 

lady There's some one at your door. 

[The door handle is rattled, then a knock is heard.] 



104 THE TIMES 

BOMPAS. 

Whoisit ? 

Trimble. 
Who— is— it ? 

Jelf. 

[Outside.] Jelf, sir — with a note. 

Trimble. 
Oh, a note. 

Jelf. 

For Mr. McShane, sir. 

Trimble. 
For Mr. McShane ! 

Jelf. 

From Mrs. Mountrafford, sir. 

[Bompas and Trimble look at each other aghast.] 

McShane. 
May I ask if that servant is ever to be admitted ? 

Bompas. 
Er— I— er 

Trimble. 

I — I — pardon me 

[Trimble takes a letter from Jelf, then re-locks 
door.] 

McShane. 

Am I to he allowed to have my letter ? 

[Trimble reluctantly hands the letter to McShane, 
who opens it.] 



THE TIMES 105 

BOMPAS. 

[To Trimble.] Ass ! Ass ! 

Trimble. 
What could I do, E.-B.? 

BOMPAS. 

From Lei- to him ! Ass ! 

McShane. 

[Reading to himself.] "Meet me to-day, usual 
place, same hour. Kathleen." 

[He refolds, and pockets the note.] 

BOMPAS. 

[To Trimble.] What's in it ? What's in it ? 
McShane. 

Mr. Bompas. I have the honour to wish you 
Good-morning. [Extending his hand.] Temporary. 

Trimble. 

I'll take Mr. McShane downstairs. 

[McShane passes out, and Trimble follows.] 

Bompas. 

Oh! What's in it? What's in it? What's in it ? 

[Mrs. Bompas enters quickly.] 

Mrs. Bompas. 

Percy ! I'm mad with anxiety ! I've been listen- 
ing at every door trying to catch a word or two. 
He's gone ! Tell me ! Percy ! Tell me ! 



106 THE TIMES 

BoMPAS. 

Why — why didn't you remain with her ? 

Mrs. Bompas. 

There was no necessity. I saw her let her hair 
down, and begin to write her letters. 

Bompas. 
Yes. She's written one to McShane ! 

Mrs. Bompas. 

To McShane ! 

Bompas. 
And he's got it ! 

Mrs. Bompas. 
No ! What's in it ? 

Bompas. 
Ah-h-h ! What's in it ! 

[Trimble enters, agitated.] 

Bompas. 
Well? Well? 

Trimble. 

E.-B. ! E.-B., I have committed an act — for you, 
dear friend, for you ! — which I shall alwa}"S find it 
extremely difficult to palliate. 

Bompas. 
What ! 

Mrs. Bompas. 
Monty ! 



THE TIMES 107 

Trimble. 

I — I am ashamed to say [producing Mrs. Hooley's 
note] that I have picked Mr. McShane's pocket. 

Bompas. 

Here ! 

[Bompas snatches the note from Trimble.] 

Mrs. Bompas. 
[Looking over her husband's shoulder.] Oh ! 

Trimble. 

I have no desire to pry into the contents of a 
communication addressed to another person ; at the 

same time 

Bompas. 

[Reading.] "Meet me to-day, usual place, same 
hour." 

Mrs. Bompas. 
What place ? 

Bompas. 

What hour? Advise me ! 

Trimble. 
[Ringing bell.] She mustn't go out, obviously. 

Mrs. Bompas. 

The wretch ! I'll turn the key of her door ! I 
will ! I will ! [She goes out.] 

Bompas. 
Well? Well? 



108 THE TIMES 

Tkimble. 
I — I — frankly, I — I candidly admit that this — is 

— a 

[Jelf enters.] 

Trimble. 

Jelf, Mr. Egerton-Bompas's orders are that you 
station yourself downstairs at the front door 

Bompas. 

Yes, yes, you and Chalmers and Hodgson — three 
of you ! 

Tkimble. 

No, no— Hodgson at the tradesman's door 

Bompas. 
I said so. 

Trimble. ' 

And that from this moment no one shall be al- 
lowed to leave the house till you have first commu- 
nicated with him or myself. 

Bompas. 
Understand ? 

Jelf. 
Certainly, sir. [Jelf withdraws.] 

Bompas. 
I've done that ! I've done that ! I've done that ! 
[Mrs. Bompas totters on.] 

Bompas. 
Clara ! 



THE TIMES 109 

Mks. Bompas. 

Percy — she is a double-faced woman ! She— let 
her hair down — to hoodwink me. 

Bompas. 
Hoodwink ! 

Mrs. Bompas. 

My poor husband ! She — she has — gone out. 

[The three are speechless for a moment.] 

Bompas. 

[Suddenly catching Trimble by the throat.] Devil ! 
devil ! 

Trimble. 
Dear friend ! 

Mrs. Bompas. 
Percy ! [Bompas shakes Mrs. Bompas off.] 

Bompas. 

[To Trimble.] You tempted me ! You have 
brought this on me ! You ! 

[He releases Trimble, who tumbles on to the floor.] 

Bompas. 

Devil ! But for you I should never have done — 
all I have done ! I should have stopped short at a 
great deal — but for you ! And now- — — ! Find 
this woman ! Keep them apart ! Bring her home 
before she meets him ! She's mine ! I've bought 
her ! Bring her home ! Bring her home ! 



110 THE TIMES 

Trimble. 
Where am I to look for her, E.-B. ? 

BOMPAS. 

[Throwing the note at him.] There ! 
Trimble. 

[Struggling to his feet] Usual place — same hour! 
[He staggers to the door as Howard, in immacu- 
late morning dress, and with a large flower in 
his button-hole, enters, with some sheets of paper 
in his hand.] 

Howard. 
Hullo, pa ! 

BOMPAS. 

[Pointing to Trimble.] Go with him ! Help him ! 
Scour town with him ! Find her ! Bring her back ! 

Howard. 
Bring who ? 

Bompas. 

Your mother-in-law. If she meets McShane to- 
day [snatching the sheets of paper from Howard's 
hand] not another bill of yours will I pay ! I'll 
serve 'em all as I do this one ! [Tearing the paper into 
pieces.] You shall starve, you and your trollop of a 
wife ! You shall sell matches in the gutter, both of 
you ! Go — go ! 

[Trimble goes oxd ; Howard is following, but lin- 
gers doubtful!)/.] 

Mrs. Bompas. 
Oh, Percy ! Try to think all will end well. Be 



THE TIMES 111 

calm ! Remember — to-night, Percy — your speech — 
your speech 

Bompas. 
My speech — yes — my chance — my great chance. 
[To Howard.] Well, why don't you go? 

Howard. 
Pa, ma told me to fetch the notes of your speech 
from the library. You've torn 'em up. 

[He goes out.] 

Bompas. 
Ah! 

[Bompas and Mrs. Bompas go down upon their 
knees and collect the scraps of paper.] 



END OF THE SECOND ACT. 



THE THIED ACT. 

The scene is the same as before, but it is evening. 

[Jelf enters, showing in Denham, who is in evening 
dress.] 

Jelf. 
The ladies are dining, ni'lord. 

Denham. 
Earlier than usual. 

Jelf. 

Yes, m'lord, on account of going down to the 
House o' Commons. 

Denham. 
Ah, I forgot. 

Jelf. 

The master makes a speech to-night, m'lord. 

Denham. 

I know. Don't announce me. I'll wait about. 

[Denham strolls off, then Beryl, in dinner dress, en- 
ters. A piano is heard.] 

Beryl. 
[To Jelf.] Who is playing the piano ? 



THE TIMES 113 

Jelf. 

Lord Lurgashall, miss. His lordship's just come 
lu - [Jelf goes out.] 

Beryl. 

Poor Denham ! I wonder how he will bear it 
when I let him know the decision I've come to, when 
I ask him plainly to release me from my engage- 
ment. I've made up my mind to do it ; I'm sure it 
is the honest course, and I've made up my mind. 
It has taken me nearly a month to make it up ; but, 
after all, a month isn't much — under — the — circum- 
stances. 

[Denham returns.] 

Denham. 

Beryl ! [She gives him her hand coldly.] You are 
not dining. 

Beryl. 

I begged to be excused half way through dinner. 
My head says there's to be a thunder-storm. 

Denham. 
Ah, you are very anxious about the success of 
your father's speech to-night. 

Beryl. 

Oh, of course. He looked ghastly when he start- 
ed down to the House this afternoon. By-the-by, 
I thought we weren't to see you till after the debate ? 

Denham. 
I'm here early — on a mission. 



114 THE TIMES 

Beryl. 
A mission ? 

Denham. 

I bring a message from my mother to yours. 

Beryl. 
Something that vexes you, by your look. 

Denham. 
I am vexed. 

[He is about to sit by her ; she quickly places her 
fan beside her on the settee.] 

Denham. 
Beryl ! 

Beryl. 
Well? 

Denham. 
What is the matter ? 

Beryl. 
The matter ! 

Denham. 
Between us? Almost from the very moment, a 
month ago, when you and I — understood one an- 
other, almost from that very moment you have al- 
tered towards me ! Why? 

Beryl. 
Why? 

Denham. 
What have I done — what do I do ? If you find 
faults in me, let me know them ; if I disappoint you, 
give me an opportunity of raising myself to the 
standard you set up. Only teach me before you 
punish me. 



THE TIMES 115 

Beryl. 
Denham, how you jump at conclusions! 

Denham. 
Conclusions? 

Beryl. 
Why accuse yourself ? 

Denham:. 

Whom should I ? 

Beryl. 
Isn't it barely possible that it is / who find it a 
little inconvenient to reach the standard of excel- 
lence which you raise ? 

Denham. 
You are laughing at me! 

Beryl. 
Not at all. You look for a wife who is to be 
unconventionally sincere, don't you ? 

Denham. 
Yes — and I look to you, Beryl. 

Beryl. 
Well, suppose on consideration, I can't promise to 
be more than conventionally genuine 

Denham. 

Why, what do you mean? 

Beryl. 

Suppose, after all, I feel that I must drift the 

world's way ; that I must preserve the ordinary 

hypocrisies, the everyday mental reservations, and 



116 THE TIMES 

hide something of my real self even from you ; that 
I must take my place with the sort of girl who is 
fairly honest, moderately candid, pretty good — but, 
oh, so unlike what you deserve, Denham ! 

[The voices of Mrs. Bompas, Miss Cazalet, and 
Honoria, are heard.] 

Denham. 

Dear Beryl, let me talk to you again this evening. 
Where ? 

Beryl. 

Go to the billiard-room, ten minutes from now. 

Denham. 
Yes, yes. 

[Mrs. Bompas, Miss Cazalet, and Honoria enter, 
followed by Lucy.] 

Mrs. Bompas. 
[To Denham.] You here, my dear boy! Why 
didn't you come to dinner? 

Miss Cazalet. 
Are you going to be our cavalier down to the 
House, Lord Lurgashall ? Delightful ! 

[Jelf and another servant enter with coffee.'] 

Beryl. 

[To Lucy.] Miss Tuck, you look lonely. 

[Lucy goes to Beryl and sits beside her.] 

Mrs. Bompas. 

[To Denham.] A message from Lady Ripstow — 
what is it ? 



THE TIMES 117 

Denham. 
May I see you alone for a moment ? 

Mrs. Bompas. 
Of course ; before we go down to the House. We 
don't start yet awhile. 

Denham. 

I'm afraid you too 

Mrs. Bompas. 
Yes, the thunder upsets all of us. Don't trouble 
about me ; talk to the others. 

[Coffee is handed round.'} 

Mrs. Bompas. 
[To herself.] Oh ! why don't I hear something 
from somebody ? What is happening all this while ? 
Oh ! Oh ! Oh ! 

[The servants hand coffee to Mrs. Bompas.] 

Mrs. Bompas. 
Jelf. 

Jelf. 
Yes, ma'am. 

Mrs. Bompas. 

Has— Mrs. Mountrafford— come in yet? 

Jelf. 
I b'lieve not, ma'am. 

Mrs. Bompas. 

Nor Mr. Howard ? 

Jelf. 
Not yet, ma'am. 



118 THE TIMES 

Mrs. Bompas. 
Are you sure Mr. Trimble hasn't called or sent 
any message? 

Jelf. 
Quite sure, ma'am. 

[She drops the cream-jug ivilh a clatter.'] 

Mrs. Bompas. 

Take it away ! Don't worry me ! 

[The servants go out.] 

Mrs. Bompas. 

[To herself.] That woman Hooley — out all day ! 
Howard — out all day ! Not a sigu from Monty ! 
What on earth is happening ? Oh ! 

Miss Cazalet. 

You ought all to be very much obliged to me ! I 
have persuaded Miss Mountrafford to practice a few 
steps of the dance Cormanti is teaching her. 

Mrs. Bompas. 
Bother ! 

Miss Cazalet. 
[To Mrs. Bompas.] Isn't it good-natured of her? 

Mrs. Bompas. 
Very — so soon after dinner. 

Honoria. 

Miss Tuck, we left the music on the piano. Will 
you go and thump it over for me ? [Lucy goes out,] 



THE TIMES 119 

Miss Cazalet. 

[Clapping her hands.] Places! places ! [To Beryl.] 
How sweet Honoria is — and Mrs. Mouutrafford ! 

Beryl. 
They \vould be glad to hear you say so. 

Miss Cazalet. 

So unaffectedly natural. But there, think of their 
strange careers! Why, this girl and her mother 
might have been scalped years ago ! 

Mrs. Bompas. 
[To herself.] Oh, if they only had been! 

Miss Cazalet. 
Eh? 

Mrs. Bompas. 
I — I didn't speak. [Dance music is heard.] 

Honoria. 

My heart's beating ! 

[Honoria dances gracefully, and, while she is 
dancing, Trimble enters unobtrusively, in 
morning dress, but dusty, disordered, and 
weary-looking. He touches Mrs. Bompas on the 
shoulder, and she utters a scream. Everybody 
is startled. Honoria ceases dancing — the music 
stops, and Lucy appears in the doorway.] 

Mrs. Bompas. 
Monty ! 



120 TIIE TIMES 

Trimble. 

I beg pardon — I alarmed you. 

[Honoria, Miss Cazalet, and Beryl surround 
Mrs. Bompas.] 

Honoria and Miss Cazalet. 
What's the matter ? 

Mrs. Bompas. 

It's nothing. Don't notice me ; I'm nervous to- 
night. Mont} r , I — I have something to arrange with 
you for Ascot week. Here ! 

Miss Cazalet. 

Let us all go to the piano. Beryl — Lord Lur- 
gashall. 

[They go out, and leave Trimble and Mrs. Bom- 
pas together.] 

Mrs. Bompas. 
Well? 

Trimble. 
Well? 

Mrs. Bompas. 

Nothing — no news? 

Trimble. 

No. And you? Hasn't— ah — dear Mrs. Moun- 
trafford returned ? [She shakes her head.] Singular — 
painfully singular. Where's your son ? [She shakes 
her head.] H'm ! It was about noon when he and 
I set out upon our search. I lost him at half-past 
four, somewhere near the Burlington Arcade. He 
must be very tired. / haven't sat down since I 



THE TIMES 121 

started. Will you allow me? [As he sits.] O-o-h ! 
[Taking a lozenge.] Dear E.-B. has gone down to the 
House ? 

Mrs. Bompas. 
Yes. 

Trimble. 

If he had been at home I should have hesitated 
about coming up. T find it difficult to excuse his 
attitude of this morning. 

Mrs. Bompas. 
Poor fellow ! 

Trimble. 
Thank you. 

Mrs. Bompas. 

I'm thinking of Percy. 

Trimble. 

Oh, yes. When he returns from what I still hope 
will be an oratorical triumph, I should like you, in 
justice to myself, to let him know that I have devoted 
my day to his interests, loyally. 



^ Mrs. Bompas. 
We are very much obliged to yc 



1 you. 

Trimble. 

No, no. After leaving your house with dear 
Howard, I found myself on the doorstep facing a 
difficult problem — diow to prevent a possible com- 
munication between two people who were to meet 
each other at an hour and place unknown to me. 
The further question as to what the deuce I should 
do if I encountered them did not fail to suggest itself. 



122 THE TIMES 

Mrs. Bompas. 

Of course it was hopeless ; Percy was in a frenzy. 
Trimble. 

Ultimately I determined that, if I succeeded in my 
search, I would entertain one or both of the parties 
with whimsical stories while Howard dashed home in 
a cab to fetch dear E.-B. This arranged, we rapidly 
touched at every place of rendezvous in the West End 
usually selected by lovers. Here I derived the utmost 
assistance from Howard. 

Mrs. Bompas. 

There's a lot of good in that boy. But you've seen 
no sign of them ? 

Trimble. 

Not a shadow. I suppose we were too late for 'em 
in one place and too early in another. Oh, it has been 
such an unsatisfactory day ! Finally, Howard fancied 
he saw an Oxford man, or something, in Burlington 
Street and bolted away. After that I fear my search 
lost method. But still I never sat down. I calculate 
I have done Bond Street thirty-three times. I be- 
came nauseated with repeated cups of chocolate at 
Charbonnell's — all swallowed standing. 

Mrs. Bompas. 
But the result is nothing — nothing ! 

Trimble. 
Pardon me, dear Mrs. E.-B., I have proved, I hope, 
what friendship is capable of. And for the first time 
for nearly forty years I find myself at this hour not 
in evening dress. 

[Denham enters.] 



THE TIMES 123 

Denham. 

I beg pardon ; I thought perhaps 

Trimble. 

I'm off, my dear L. [To Mrs. Bompas.] Good-bye, 
dear Mrs. E.-B. ; I must be at the opera to-night — 
there's a new tenor. It's a disgrace that this big 
debate in the House clashes with Otello ; lots of 
people are very angry about it. Love to E.-B. ! 

[He goes out.] 
Mrs. Bompas. 

[To Denham.] You want me, my dear boy ? 
Denham. 

[Producing a letter.] I am very sorry to have to be 
the bearer of this from my mother. 

Mrs. Bompas. 
For me ? 

Denham. 

You have never been told, I think, that my mother 
has a strong aversion to Miss Cazalet. 

Mrs. Bompas. 
Good gracious me, no ! 

Denham. 
That refers to it. 

Mrs. Bompas. 
Oh! 

Denham. 
I wanted to see yon before you read it, to say this. 
The letter is my mother's, not mine ; any request that 



124 THE TIMES 

it contains is made solely by her ; any threat that she 
holds out she will execute alone. 

Mrs. Bompas. 
Threat, my dear boy ! 

Denham. 
I fear you will find something of the kind there. 

Denham. 

But I beg that you will believe me, for Beryl's sake, 

always dutifully and affectionately yours. [He kisses 

her hand.] [To himself.] The billiard-room, Beryl 

said, in ten minutes. [He goes out.] 

Mrs. Bompas. 
[Reading rapidly.] " Lord Lurgashall will explain, 
if required, my reasons for the grave exception I take 
to the lady I have more than once encountered at 
your house. Let me say, with every amiable senti- 
ment, that my acquaintance with you must be sus- 
pended until you undertake to close your doors upon 
this lady." Oh ! "I need scarcely add that upon 
your decision now rests the question as to whether 
Lord Ripstow will ever call. Faithfully yours, 
Victoria Ripstow." Oh ! Oh, in all the world is there 
a more unlucky woman than myself ! Every hour a 
new trouble ! And now — Lurgashall's mother ! The 
very best person we know, too ! Oh ! 

[Bompas enters, breathless and excited.] 

Bompas. 
Hullo ! 

Mrs. Bompas. 
Percy ! 



THE TIMES 



125 



BOMPAS. 

Don't be frightened. I've arranged with the 
Whips to be away from the House for an hour. I've 
come over so fidgety about Mother Hooley. Cat ! 

Is she back ? 

Mrs. Bompas. 

No — nor Howard. 

Bompas. 

Oh! 

Mrs. Bompas. 

Monty looked in, to say he'd had no luck. 

Bompas. 

Yah! 

Mrs. Bompas. 

Percy, is— is Mr. McShane in the House ? 

Bompas. 
No, not yet. I can't make out what's going on ; 
I can't make it out. But there, I'm a fool to think 
of 'em. Don't mention 'em again— don't let me 
mention 'em ! I'll think of nothing to-night but 
myself — myself— and my chance ! 

Mrs. Bompas. 

That's right. 

Bompas. 

Look here, now I'm home I'll jump into my dress- 
clothes I always speak better in dress-clothes, 

don't I? 

Mas. Bompas. 

Yes, yes. 



126 THE TIMES 

BOMPAS. 

I look more aristocratic in them — don't you think? 
Don't I look more aristocratic in my dress-clothes ? 

Mrs. Bompas. 
Yes. 

BOMPAS. 

Then why don't you encourage me ? Why don't 

you ? 

[He sits down and begins quickly sorting and ar- 
ranging the notes of' his speech.] 

Bompas. 
My speech. One — two — three — four. Where's 
five — where's five ? 

Mrs. Bompas. 
How poorly you seem ! 

Bompas. 
My brain's boiling. Eight's gone ! This is a 
tremendous chance. Eight, 

Mrs. Bompas. 
You've eaten nothing. 

Bompas. 
No. Nine. 

Mrs. Bompas. 

Have a sponge cake. 

Bompas. 

Sponge ! Ugh ! I tried to masticate a chop 

down there, but — I shall speak better on an empty 
stomach, sha'n't I ? [Stamping his foot violently.] 
Sha'n't I speak better on an ? 



THE TIMES 127 

Mrs. Bompas. 
Yes. 

Bompas. 

Then why don't you encourage me ? Why don't 

you ? 

Mrs. Bompas. 

Oh, Percy, I — I've got a horrible dread that — that 
our luck's changing ! 

Bompas. 

Changing ! Do you call this encouraging me ? 
Let me go and dress ! 

Mrs. Bompas. 

Stay— here ! [Showing him the letter.] Here's Lady 
Ripstow at it now. It appears she hates Kate 
Cazalet. 

Bompas. 

Let her — we don't care. 

Mrs. Bompas. 
But she threatens not to know me if I continue to 
receive Miss Cazalet here. What shall I do ? 

Bompas. 
Do ! do ! Throw Kate Cazalet over, of course. 

Mrs. Bompas. 
Oh, Percy ! 

Bompas. 
Kindly — kindly. If the ship rides lighter without 
her, over with her ! 

Mrs. Bompas. 
How can I ? 



128 THE TIMES 

BOMPAS. 

Clara, look here, I'm getting - desperate ! This in- 
gratitude of Mother Hooley's is making a different 
man of me ! Cat ! Even you won't recognize me 
soon. I tell you, if we get well out of the scrape 
that we're in, I'm going to alter my line of conduct 
for the rest of my life. 

Mrs. Bompas. 
Oh, yes, let us both do that — let us — let us ! 

Bompas. 
For the future, self ! I mean it ! No more 
studying other people ! Simply Ourselves — Our- 
selves ! So if Lady Ripstow, or any other person 
of title, objects to a woman-friend of ours, over she 
goes — look out there ! — over she goes ! 

Mrs. Bompas. 
Ah! 

Bompas. 
I'll go and dress. Be ready for me in a quarter- 
of-an-hour and I'll take you down to the House. 
Give me a kiss, old lady. [She makes no response.] 
Ho ! this is encouragement, isn't it! Very well, I'll 
encourage myself. [Snapping liis fingers.] That for 
Mother Hooley ! Cat ! That for McShane ! I defy 
everybody! Nothiug'll ever hurt me! I'm a suc- 
cessful man ! Nothiug'll ever ! 

[He goes out.'] 

Mrs. Bompas. 

Well, if this has to be done, I suppose I am — How 

shall I manage it ? No more lies if I can help it ! 

Not another lie will I tell that isn't strictly necessary ! 



THE TIMES 129 

Why shouldn't I speak plainly to Kate Cazalet ? As 
a woman of the world she'd understand that I 
daren't offend this aristocratic old reptile. That's 
it — I'll throw myself on her indulgence. [Opening 
the door and calling.] Miss Cazalet, dear ! 

[TJie dance music ceases. Miss Cazalet enters, fol- 
lowed by Honokia and Lucy.] 

Mrs. Bompas. 

[To Miss Cazalet.] Come upstairs — I want five 
minutes of the cosiest chat with you imaginable. 

Miss Cazalet. 
Just what I love. 

Mrs. Bompas. 
Oh, dear ! 

Miss Cazalet. 
You're faint. 

Mrs. Bompas. 
It's only the thunder. Come upstairs. 

Miss Cazalet. 
My dear Mrs. Bompas, let me tell you an excel- 
lent thing for nerves 

[They go out. Beryl enters.] 
Beryl. 
The billiard-room in ten minutes. Poor Denham ! 
[She steals off. As she does so, Howard is heard 
outside the door singing a " comic song " in a 
maudlin ivay.] 

Lucy. 
Hark! What's that? 



130 THE TIMES 

HONORIA. 

Why, I do believe ! 

[Lucy goes to the door and looks out."] 

Lucy. 

Oh ! come away, Miss Mountrafford ; oh, do come 
away. 

[Lucy drags Honoria across the room, as Howard 
lurches in, drunk.] 

Lucy. 
Oh ! Oh ! 

Honoria. 
Howard ! 

Howard. 
I've go' back. 

Lucy. 
[To Honoria.] Oh, pray come upstairs ! 

Honoria. 
[To Lucy.] Ah, don't be alarmed, dear. I've 
seen him — ill — once before. [To Howard.] Are 
you aware of the state you're in ? 

Howard. 
Am I 'ware state I'm in ? You 'lude to the fac' 
that I am a little dusty. 

Honoria. 
Dusty, is it ! I fancy you've been laying the dust 
pretty well. 

Howard. 

Layin' the ? Aha ! Good-goo' ! Layin' the 

dus' ! Goo' ! Is there another la'y presen', or is it 
all you ? 



THE TIMES 



131 



HONORIA. 

Sure, it's Miss Tuck. 

Howard. 
Owh! Misstuck I [Staggering towards Ltjcy.] Of 
course — Misstuck ! 

Lucy. 

Oh, no, please ! 

Howard. 

I recklect— Misstuck— stayin' in our 'ouse— teach- 
ing Hon— Hon— nor — ror— ria. Hie ! 

[He falls helplessly into a chair.] 

Lucy. 
Come, let us help him into his room quietly. 

HONORIA. 

I'll not lend a hand. 

Lucy. 

Oh, I know it isn't quite the way in which young 
women ought to occupy themselves ; but suppose 
his people were to see him in this condition ! 

Honoria. 

Let them ! What do I care ! It'll be a lesson to 
'em. They think themselves mighty superior— let 
'em contemplate that! Many a lecture they've 
favoured me with on my behaviour— let 'em look at 
that ! I'm not to put my knife in my mouth at 
mealtimes ; I'm not to sponge up my gravy with a 
crust in strange houses ! Let 'em look at that ! Oh, 
the impudence of it ! 



132 THE TIMES 

Lucy. 

I don't understand what you mean. I think 
you're very hard-hearted. [Advancing to Howaed 
and taking his arm.] Come upstairs. 

Howard. 

[Throwing his arms round Lucy.] Oh, my dar- 
ling ! My dar ! 

Lucy. 

[Releasing herself.'] Ahh ! 

[Honoria boxes Howard's ears and shakes him.] 

Howard. 
Wha' ! 

Honoria. 
I'll teach you ! 

Howard. 
Wrong again ! 

Honoria. 

Fondling a strange lady ! 

Howard. 

Strange la'y ! I thought she was you ! Oh, when 
do I do ri' ? I dun' know. 

Lucy. 
Pray overlook it, Miss Mountrafford. I'm con- 
vinced he didn' know the difference 

Honoria. 
Sure, it's time he did then ! 

Howard. 
Wha' that la'y says is correc'. Oh, I have had a 



THE TIMES 133 

dre'ful month, this las' month ! Oh, my darling ! 
my darling ! 

Honoria. 

[Caressing him.] Ah, did I strike you a blow then, 
dearest? 

Howard. 
Fri'ful blow. 

HONORIA. 

Sure, I'm unconscious of what I'm doing when my 
Irish blood's up. You'll forgive, Howard? 

Howard. 
Yes. 

Honoria. 

And you'll never reduce yourself to this state any 
more ? 

Howard. 
Never — hie ! 

Honoria and Howard. 
Ah ! [They embrace lovingly.] 

Lucy. 

Miss Mountrafford 

Howard. 
Go' way ! We're all ri\ 

Lucy. 
I must beg you to remember that you are merely 
engaged to Mr. Howard. 

Honoria. 
Ah, mind your own business ! 



134 THE TIMES 

Lucy. 

I owe a duty to those who employ me. 

Honoria. 

You've only got to teach me French. 

Howard. 

[Waving Lucy away.'] French ! 

Lucy. 

And to advise you on a course of general behav- 
iour. Miss Mountrafford, there are certain prescribed 
limits beyond which it is not decorous for a young 
person to step during the period of engagement. 

Honoria. 
Philoo ! 

Lucy. 

I feel you are travelling beyond those limits. 

[Howard kisses Honoria.] 

Lucy. 
Mr. Howard ! 

[She advances to Howard, and drags him from the 
settee.] 

Lucy. 

I'll tell your parents ! 

Howard. 

Wha' ! How dare you interfere between me — and 
— and my goo' lady ! 

Honoria. 
Howard ! whist ! 



THE TIMES 135 

Howard. 
I repea', my goo' lady. 

Honoria. 
What are you saying ? 

Howard. 
This is my lawful wife — my precious wife ! 

Honoria. 
Don't listen to him ! 

Howard. 
We are on our honeymoon. 
Lucy. 
Miss Mountrafford ! 

Howard. 
Mountrafford ! That's Mrs. Howard Egerton- 
Bompas 

Honoria. 
There now ! 

Howard. 
Formerly Miss 'Nory-oria 'Ooley. 

Honoria. 
Now he's done it ! 

Howard. 
I'm sick of 'umbug and deception ! I'm married 
gentleman ! Let all the world know it ! I'm young 
married English gentleman ! 

Lucy. 
Oh, Mr. Howard ! 



136 THE TIMES 

HOWARD. 

'Noria, I know we can trus' this sweet young 
lady. Have you got your marriage certificate with 
you? 

[Honoria produces an envelope from the bodice of 
her dress.] 

Honoria. 

Have I got it ! Sure it never leaves me, night nor 
day. [Handing a certificate to Lucy.] Look at that 
and hold your tongue about it. 

Lucy. 

But this doesn't refer 

Honoeia. 
Tes, yes, my dear, and we're to be married all 
over again to make a fine tip-top match of it. 

Lucy. 
But were you never Miss Mountrafford ? 

Honoria. 
Not I, sweet. [Kissing Lucy.] Sure, I feel easier 
in my mind now that we've got one real friend in 
the house. 

Howard. 

One real ! My darling ! 

Honoria. 
Now then ! 

Lucy. 

Hark ! I'm sure somebody's coming. 

Honoria. 
[Sujtyorting Howard.] Hold up, dearest. 



THE TIMES 137 

[Lucy and Honoria lead Howard with difficulty to 
a door.] 

Howard. 

It's Monty Trimble's idea— 'umbugging second 
wedding. 

Honoria. 

That's enough now — drop it ! 

Howard. 
01' story— everybody ashamed of 'orrid oi' mother- 
in-law. 

Honoria. 
Come on ! 

Howard. 

01' mother 'Ooley ! ol' mother ! 

[They go out, and as they disappear, Miss Cazalet 
enters in a towering rage ; while Mrs. Bompas 
follows, attempting to pacify her.] 

Miss Cazalet. 
Not another word ! don't speak to me ! 

Mrs. Bompas. 
Pray try to see things in their right light. 

Miss Cazalet. 

In their right light ! I am taken by the shoulders 
and turned out of this house 

Mrs. Bompas. 
No — no ! 



138 THE TIMES 

Miss Cazalet. 

Kicked out of it — to please that woman Ripstow ! 
That's the only light in which I see things. [Try- 
ing to put on her mantle.] Confound the cloak ! 

Mrs. Bompas. 

Let me help you. 

Miss Cazalet. 

Hah, what a hurry you're in to see the last of me ! 
Send Lucy to me ; I'll take her away to-night. Oh, 
the insult, the insult ! 

Mrs. Bompas. 

Wait here till you have spoken to my husband ; 
he will offer every apology. 

Miss Cazalet. 

Apology ! Let the creature Ripstow apologise. 
Send Lucy, to me. 

Mrs. Bompas. 

Calm yourself ! My husband is at home ; I'll find 
him. 

Miss Cazalet. 

The insult ! the insult ! 

Mrs. Bompas. 1 

How truly unfortunate ! Wait, wait ! Percy, 
Percy ! 

[She runs out. Miss Cazalet seizes the jiMows 
from the settees, and the books from the table, 
andflings them about the room.] 



THE TIMES 139 

Miss Cazalet. 
Ah ! Ah ! What can I do — what can I do to 
pay out this viper Ripstow ! If I can't revenge my- 
self on her I shall become frantic — frantic ! Oh ! 

[Lucy, still clutching the marriage certificate, enters 
quickly.] 

Miss Cazalet. 
Lucy ! 

Lucy. 
Oh! 

Miss Cazalet. 

What's wrong with you ? 

Lucy. 
I — I'm so upset. 

Miss Cazalet. 
Upset ! 

Lucy. 

I — I don't know whether I'm doing my duty here. 
This seems to be such a strange household. 

Miss Cazalet. 

Hah, so / think ! 

Lucy. 

Do you know — do you know — they are already 
married ? 

Miss Cazalet. 
Who are married ? 

Lucy. 
Young Mr. Howard and Miss Mountrafford. Oh, 
I oughtn't to have told vou ! 



140 TEE TIMES 

Miss Cazalet. 
Go on ! 

Lucy* 

You won't repeat it, will you ? And, what's more, 
she — she isn't Miss Mouutrafford at all, and never 
was ! 

Miss Cazalet. 

Lucy ! [Snatches the certificate from Lucy's hand.] 
What have you got there ? 

Lucy. 

[Attempting to recover it] Oh, no ! Oh, my 
head ! 

Miss Cazalet. 

[Reading.'] "Marriage solemnised at the Register 
Office, in the District of St. Michael's, Abergaron, in 
the County of Carnarvon — Howard Bompas — Hono- 
ria Hooley ! " What's the meaning of it ? 

Lucy. 
I — I'm dreadfully afraid it's a mesalliance. 

Miss Cazalet. 
A mesalliance? 

Lucy. 

Yes, and poor Mr. and Mrs. Egerton-Bompas are 
trying to give a good aspect to the matter by cele- 
brating a second marriage. Oh, don't you feel 

sorry for them ? 

Miss Cazalet. 

Awfully. And this — this is tbe family into which 
the son of my old friend Lady Ripstow is about to 
enter ! Ha, ha, ha, ha ! 



THE TIMES 141 

Lucy. 
What are you laughing at ? 

Miss Cazalet. 
Come home ! 

Lucy. 
Home ? 

[Miss Cazalet crams the certificate into her 
pocket.] 

Miss Cazalet. 

You can tell me all you know about this sad affair 
in the cab. Quick ! 

Lucy. 

But I don't wish to ! 



Miss Cazalet. 
Come ! 

Lucy. 

The certificate — give it me — let me return it. 

Miss Cazalet. 

When I've done with it. 

Lucy. 

No, no ! 

Miss Cazalet. 

Now, Lady Ripstow ! [ To Lucy.] Come home ! 
[She pulls Lucy to the door and they go out. 
Then another door is opened and Mrs. Bom- 
pas's voice is heard.] 

Mrs. Bompas. 
\ Outside.] Percy! Percy! Make haste ! [She 



142 THE TIMES 

enters the room quickly.'] Miss Cazalet ! dear Miss 
Cazalet ! 

[Bompas enters in evening dress, which has evidently 
been rather hurriedly put on. He attempts to 
make his tie into a bow as he speaks.] 

Bompas. 
Where is she ? Where is she ? 

Mrs. Bompas. 
She hasn't gone, surely ! Miss Cazalet ! 

Bompas. 
Don't upset yourself ! Throw her over. 

Mrs. Bompas. 
She must be looking for her niece. 

Bompas. 
She's of no consequence, I tell you 

Mrs. Bompas. 
[Opening the door and calling.'] Miss Cazalet ! 

Bompas. 

That rotten newspaper of hers is dead or dying ; 
it can't do us either harm or good. Over with her ! 

Mrs. Bompas. 
Miss Cazalet [Mrs. Bompas goes out.] 



THE TIMES 143 

BOMPAS. 

Come and tie my bow, Clara. Clara, come and tie 
my bow. Clara ! [Finding she is gone.] Oh ! Miss 
Cazalet indeed ! How my hand shakes ! Over with 
her ! I've made up my mind — for the future, Self ! 
I — I can't tie my bow. [Sitting helplessly at the end 
of the settee. ] Clara — old lady ! 

[Unnoticed by Bompas, Mrs. Hooley, looking very 
much upset, and McShane, pale, speechless, and 
agitated, enter the room, and stand gazing at 
Bompas.] 

Bompas. 

[To himself.] I— I'll wait for Clara. Heavens, 
how does my peroration begin? [Turning over his 
notes hastily.] I — I'm forgetting my peroration. 

[Mrs. Bompas returns and sees Mrs. Hooley and 
McShane.] 

Mrs. Bompas. 
Percy ! 

Bompas. 

Do come and tie my bow. Eh? [Seeing Mrs. 
Hooley and McShane.] Oh ! 

[McShane fidgets with his umbrella.] 

Bompas. 

Mr. McShane, I— I didn't hear the servant an- 
nounce you in the — the — proper way. 

McShane. 
Sir, I let myself in with this lady's latch-key. 



144 THE TIMES 

Mrs. Bompas. 
Oh! 

Bompas. 
Oil! Er— ah— Mrs.— Mrs. Mountrafford, we re- 
joice to see you looking so much — better. Don't 
we, Clara? 

[Mrs. Hooley begins to sob demonstratively.'] 

Bompas. 
Er — that is, I'm glad that the report of your ill- 
ness, the — ah — influenza, was exaggerated. How it 
got about I — I trust, Mr. McShane Clara? 

McShane. 
Bompas. Bompas. Cease your dirty prevarica- 
tion. I know all, sir. 

Mrs. Hooley. 
Owh ! And indeed it's myself that's told him the 
entire truth. Oh, why was I so impulsive ! 

McShane. 

Mrs. Kathleen Hooley, ma'am 

Bompas and Mrs. Bompas. 
[Exchanging looks.] Ah ! 

McShane. 
Mrs. Kathleen Hooley, you'll oblige me by keep- 
ing silent — if that's possible. 

Mrs. Hooley. 
Loving me as he did, I never anticipated he'd take 
the disclosures in this way 

McShane. 
Mrs. Hooley ! 



THE TIMES 145 

Mrs. Hooley. 

Sure, Kitty Hooley's as fine a woman as Kathleen 
Mountranbrd, barring the fortune he looked for. 
Owh ! 

McShane. 

Bompas, when I met this lady to-day at our usual 
place of meeting, the National Gallery 

Bompas and Mrs. Bompas. 
The National Gallery ! 

McShane. 

And when I perceived that she was in more than 
her usual state of health, I felt I was the victim of 
some despicable, underhand doings of which you 
were the originator. 

Bompas. 

I advise you to be careful, Mr. McShane ; I really 

advise } r ou 

McShane. 

But I was not prepared for the revelations of craft, 
cunning, and duplicity which were made over a cup 
of tea at a neighbouring restaurant. 

Bompas. 

Clara, note Mr. McShane's language — note it ! 

McShane. 

I dashed down to the House, to find you had 
skulked home for an hour ; I followed you here. 
Now, sir ! You'll be good enough to ask these ladies 
to retire. 



146 THE TIMES 

BOMPAS. 

Sir, I request that you communicate with me only 
by letter. 

McShane. 
You request, sir ! You ! 

Mrs. Hooley. 
[Clinging to him.] Ah, Tim, Tim! We'll go, 
darling ! Don't let your temper rise ! We'll go, 
darling boy, we'll go ! 

McShane. 
[Releasing himself.] Kathleen ! 

Mrs. Hooley. 
Yes, yes, I'll leave you. Oh, Tim, is it all over 
between us ? 

McShane. 

I — I can't say, Kathleen. It's a difficult position 
I'm in with regard to you. But I'll consider — there ! 

Mrs. Hooley. 
Why was I so indiscreet ! Oh, the love I've thrown 
away this day ! 

Bompas. 
[To Mrs. Bompas.] Keep near at hand — don't 
leave me ! 

Mrs. Bompas. 
I won't. We're in his power, Percy. 

Bompas. 
I know — I know. 

Mrs. Bompas. 
But be bold ; brazen it out. 



THE TIMES 147 

BOMPAS. 

Yes, yes — yes, yes. 

Mrs. Bompas. 

And then, if you can, buy him. 

Bompas. 
Yes, yes. 

Mrs. Bompas. 

My poor old man ! Shriek if you want me. 

Bompas. 
Yes, yes. 

Mrs. Bompas. 

I mean, call out. 

Bompas. 
I know — same thing. 

[Mrs. Bompas goes out with Mrs. Hooley.J 

Bompas. 
[To himself.] Bold — brazen it out. Bold — 
brazen it out. Now, Mr. McShane, I ask the reason 
of this outrageous conduct — conduct unbecoming a 

gentleman, conduct which [He sees McShane 

reading the notes of his speech.] What's that your 
reading — what's that you're reacting? 

McShane. 
The notes of your speech, sir. 

Bompas. 

Put those down ! How dare you ! How dare ! 

McShane. 
What ! Lift up your voice to me again and I'll 



148 THE TIMES 

publicly proclaim you the mean, fraudulent trickster 
that you undoubtedly are ! 

Bompas. 
Sir! 

McShane. 

Raise your voice half a tone above your ordinary 
dirty conversational level, and to-morrow all London 
shall ring - with the vile imposture of which you're 
guilty ! 

BOMPAS. 

Ah, McShane ! McShane, it's you who are violent, 
not — not I. I — McShane, let's talk the matter over 
quietly — shall we ? Quietly — both of us — quietly — 

quietly 

McShane. 

\Eeswning his examination of the notes.] As I 
thought — as I thought. 

Bompas. 

You've no right to read those notes, McShane — 
no rmht whatever — no — no 



McShane. 

A contemptible vituperation of the Party to which 
it is my pride to belong. 

BOMPAS. 

That speech, sir, is a — a — an avowal of — of the 
convictions of a lifetime. 

McShane. 
See page three. 



TEE TIMES 149 

BOMPAS. 

That speech contains a — a — a lucid exposition of 
my — my firm, undeviating political principles ; — 

McShane. 
Your what ? 

Bompas. 

Principles which have been the main guide and 
factor of a busy life ; principles which are — are — 



McShane. 

[Prompting him from the notes.] Which are as 

vital as 

Bompas. 
That's it — as vital as the air I breathe, as the — 

the ! What are you doing, what are you doing? 

[McShane is deliberately placing the notes in his 
breast-pocket. Twilight is falling.] 

McShane. 
Bompas, you will not require these notes. 

Bompas. 
What do you mean ? My speech ! my speech ! 

McShane. 
You will not deliver this speech, Bompas. 

Bompas. 
To-night ! I speak it to-night ! 

McShane. 
No, sir, you do not, because from this moment 
you abjure the political principles which have been 
the main guide and factor of your busy life 



150 THE TIMES 

BOMPAS. 

I! 

McShane. 

From this moment you turn your back on convic- 
tions which are as vital as the air you breathe 

Bompas. 
I do not ! 

McShane. 

You do ! And in their place you will adopt the 
views and opinions, and the mode of reasoning, of 
the Party to which it is my pride to belong. Bom- 
pas, you're ours ! 

Bompas. 
Yours ! Yours ! 

McShane. 

Yes, Bompas, from this time forth your sympa- 
thies, your aspirations, your instincts, are purely 
Irish. [Bompas utters a loiv cry.] In the House, 
and out of it, you're now a staunch, consistent, and, 
when necessary, an animated supporter of Joseph 
Finnerty and Michael James Shannon. Think your- 
self mighty lucky you're let off so pleasantly for the 
trick you've played me over the widow. My first, 
unworthy impulse was to trumpet your rascality to 
the world. 

Bompas. 

Oh! 

McShane. 

And then a finer, loftier inspiration came to me — 
to utilise you in the cause of Patriotism ! 



THE TIMES 151 

BOMPAS. 

No, no ! 

McShane. 

Don't imagine I'm proud of you. But the hand- 
some and regular contributions you'll make to our 
Parliamentary fund will be acceptable, and the 
dirtiest vote counts on a division. [Holding out 
his liand.] And so, Blankets — permanent ! 

BOMPAS. 

Take care ! You can't do this ! You sha'n't do 
it ! I defy you ! I defy you ! 

McShane. 
What's that ! 

BOMPAS. 

No, no, I don't ! McShane, McShane — old fellow 
— old chap — be open to argument ! If you make a 
political turncoat of me, I shall lose all my big 
friends — nobs ! — nice people who'd be glad of any 
excuse to give me the cold-shoulder. Don't do it, 
don't do it, just as I'm laying hold of their coat- 
tails ! 

McShane. 

Ah, I'm ashamed of you ! 

Bompas. 
McShane — dear old boy ! I will support your 
Parliamentary Fund, munificently, — I will, I will ; 
only let me do it in a quiet, unostentatious, anony- 
mous way, and don't stop me from abusing your 
Party in the House ! McShane, McShane ! 

McShane. 
What ! You're asking me to be a schemer and a 



152 THE TIMES 

hypocrite like yourself, are you ! No, sir ! I'm an 
injured man — my feelings are outraged, my affec- 
tions misplaced ; but it's a convert I'm making, not 
a victim. It's no use, Bompas — you're ours. 

Bompas. 

Clara! [To McShane.] You'd strangle my par- 
liamentary career ! Clara ! You'd put your heel 
on the neck of a rising politician ! Clara ! Clara ! 
Clara ! [Mrs. Bompas enters.] Clara ! 

Mrs. Bompas. 
I know — I've been listening. 

Bompas. 
My chance ! My chance ! 

Mrs. Bompas. 

Mr. McShane ! The great opportunity of my 
poor husband's life ! 

McShane. 

Don't distress yourself, ma'am. We'll give him 
magnificent opportunities by-and-by, — long nights 
of 'em. 

Mrs. Bompas. 

But this night ! Man, haven't you any heart ! 
We're all ready to go down ! 

McShane. 

I'm extremely sorry, but in view of his abrupt 
change of political views it would be better for him 
not to go back to the House this evening. 



THE TIMES 153 

Mks. Bompas. 
Oh! 

Bompas. 

I will go down ! I will ! 

McShane. 

If you do, mind, you'll follow us boys into the 
lobby". 

Bompas. 
Ahh 

McShane. 

[To Mrs. Bompas.] Now, d'ye notice how agi- 
tated he is ? Let him have a quiet evening at home. 

Mrs. Bompas and Bompas. 

At home ! [Bompas sinks into a chair, dazed.] 

Mrs. Bompas. 

Never mind, Percy. You — used to be — fond — of 
your home. 

McShane. 

To-morrow morning I'll look in early and dictate 
a manifesto to his constituents. And now I'll hurry 
down and give the boj'S the intelligence. 

Mrs. Bompas. 
Mr. McShane ! Mr. McShane ! 

McShane. 
Be easy, ma'am — on behalf of Joseph Finnerty 
and Michael James Shannon, I promise you this. 
You're ambitious, I believe, you and Blankets — 
Bompas ? 



154 THE TIMES 

Mrs. Bompas. 
I don't know— perhaps — yes. 

McShane. 

Mrs. Bompas, in the future your house shall be 
the centre of a great political world ; your establish- 
ment the axis of a mighty movement ; your drawing- 
room a crowded salon — the meeting-place of a 
powerful, irresistible Party. 

Mrs. Bompas. 

Party ? 

McShane. 

The Party to which it is now your husband's 
pride to belong. [He goes out. It is now dusk.'] 

Bompas. 

[Folding his arms and glaring xvildly around him.] 
" Mr. Speaker— sir. Nothing but a stern sense of 

public duty ; nothing but an acute perception 

of the obligation I am under to my constitu- 
ents ; " 

Mrs. Bompas. 
Percy ! Hush ! 

Bompas. 

" Nothing less would have induced me to follow 
the torrent of eloquence which has just pi'eceded 
me with the feeble trickle of 1113' own earnest but in- 
adequate oratory. Conscious " 

Mrs. Bompas. 
No, no 



THE TIMES 155 

BOMPAS. 

"Hah, these interruptions do not find me unpre- 
pared ! I am not unnerved by the howling of Irish 

wolves ! " 

Mrs. Bompas. 

For mercy's sake, be quiet ! 
Bompas. 

" Sir, if that expression is not in accord with the 
courtesies practised in this House " 

Mrs. Bompas. 

What are you thinking about ? Old man ! 

Bompas. 

«H .» Oh? Eh? Clara! 

Mrs. Bompas. 

Yes, yes, it's Clara — Clara. 

Bompas. 

Oh, my speech, my speech ! [Jelf appears.'] 

Mrs. Bompas. 
What is it? 

Jelf. 

The carriage is at the door, ma'am. 

Mrs. Bompas. 
[To Bompas. J Shall I— tell him? [With an effort 
Bompas nods assent.] Your master does not go down 
to the House to-night. 

Jelf. 
Not, ma'am ! 



156 THE TIMES 

Mrs. Bompas. 

No. Send the carriage back to the stables. Turn 
up the light ! 

[Jelf disappears quickly. The room is brightly 
illuminated by electric light.] 

Mrs. Bompas. 
Come, Percy ! Be a man ! We're not crushed 
yet. 

Bompas. 

Not crushed yet. 

Mrs. Bompas. 
After all, we've only changed our political views 
from — purely — conscientious motives. Heaven for- 
give us ! 

Bompas. 

Yes, yes — conscientious motives ; that's it — yes, 
yes. 

Mrs. Bompas. 

Besides, think, our danger's over. We've bought 
that little wretch's silence. We're safe — our dan- 
ger's passed — we're safe ! 

Bompas. 
Safe ! Yes, of course we are — safe ! 

Mrs. Bompas. 
Nothing stops us now ! 

Bompas. 
Nothing ! Nothing ! 

Mrs. Bompas. 
Beryl will be married next month — gloriously 



TEE TIMES 157 

married. Our Beryl, Lady Lurgashall ! Think of 
it ! think of it ! 

BOMPAS. 

Lady Lurgashall ! The future Countess of Kip- 
stow ! Our Beryl ! 

Mrs. Bompas. 

Ha, ha, ha ! Old man ! Eh? 

Bompas. 
Ha, ha ! ha, ha ! 

Both. 
Ha, ha ! ha, ha ! 

[They link arms, laughing and chuckling. Beryl 
enters.] 

Beryl. 
Mamma. 

Mrs. Bompas. 
! We — were — just talking about you, child. 

Beryl. 
Mamma, I don't know how I am to tell you. 

Mrs. Bompas. 
Tell me— what ? 

Beryl. 
Lord Lurgashall has just left the house. 

Mrs. Bompas. 

Why, of course, be was to meet us at 

Beryl. 
No, no, you don't see what I mean. He has left 
this house for ever ; he will never return. 



158 THE TIMES 

Mrs. Bompas and Bompas. 
What! 

Beryl. 

I have told him that I cannot marry him, and our 
engagement is at an end. 

[Bompas advances excitedly to Beryl ; Mrs. Bom- 
pas clings to his arm.] 

Mrs. Bompas. 

No, no, Percy ! This shall be put right to-mor- 
row — a lover's quarrel. 

Beryl. 

It is nothing of the kind. My mind is made up. 
I will help to deceive our set about Howard's mar- 
riage, — you can make me do that ; but you shall not 
make me deceive the poor fellow who wishes to 
marry me because of my honesty. 

Bompas. 
Ahhh! 

Mrs. Bompas. 
Beryl. 

Beryl. 

Understand me ! You sha'n't shake me ! I mean 
it — I mean it ! [She goes out.] 

Mrs. Bompas. 

Our — children ! Our 

Bompas. 
Our — children ! Ho, yes ! 

Mrs. Bompas. 
No, no, not our children — not both of them. 



THE TIMES 159 

There's still Howard. Poor boy, he's been impru- 
dent, but [sobbing] he's a nice boy at heart. 

[Howard staggers on, in evening dress, his hat on the 
back of his head, a large flower in his button- 
hole, a cigar in his mouth.] 

Howard. 

Tha's ri\ 'On-or-ror-ria, you practise your scales 

while I'm gone. You, 'Ullo, ma, you 'ere! I'm 

off out for th' evenin'. 

Mrs. Bompas. 
Howard ! 

Howard. 

Wha's ma'rrer ? 'Ullo, pa ! Th' servants say 
you're not goin' down to 'Ouse of Corn's to-night 
after all. Funked it, hey — funked it ! Hie ! 

Mrs. Bompas and Bompas. 
Oh! 

Howard. 

So I've told 'On — or — ror — ria to pound away at 
her scales for an hour or so while I 'ave look round. 
Bye-bye ! 

Mrs. Bompas. 

[Seizing him by the lajiels of his coat.] Wretch ! 

Bompas. 
[Taking him by the coat-collar.] Blackguard ! 

Howard. 
At me a^ain ! When do I do ri' ! I dun' know. 



160 THE TIMES 

BOMPAS. 

You — you're not sober ! 

Howard. 

No, I am not sober ! I've 'ad dre'ful month, tins 
las' month, and I am drowning my misfortunes in 
the bowl. Le' me alone ! There ! I'm my own 
master ! I'm young married English gentleman — 
with Uni — university education ! 

[He goes out, Mrs. Bompas and Bompas sit star- 
ing blankly before them. Honoria is heard 
practising her "scales" in another room. Mrs. 
Bompas creeps over to her husband and puts 
her arms around him.] 



END OF THE THIRD ACT. 



THE FOURTH ACT. 

The scene is the same as before, but it is now early 
morning of the day subsequent to the events of the 
previous act. 

Bompas, still in evening dress, but looking very much 
crumpled, is asleep on the settee. Jelf enters, 
whistling. 

Jelf. 

The gov'nor ! Why, he hasn't been to bed all 
night ! Phew ! 

[He is ivalking away on tiptoe, when he meets 
Mrs. Bompas entering the room, dressed in a 
morning wrapper, and looking pale and agi- 
tated.] 

Mrs. Bompas. 

Jelf, I am anxious about your master ; he is not in 
his room. I can't think 

Jelf. 

All right, ma'am. There he is ; he must have 
dropped off here. 

Mrs. Bompas. 
Oh ! [Jelf goes 



162 THE TIMES 

Mrs. Bompas. 

What can he have been doing all the night long ? 
[Turning over a litter of papers on the table.'] "To 
the Electors of the Northern Division of St. Swith- 
in's." [Bompas moans.] Poor old man ! [Reading.] 
"Gentlemen, Actuated solely by conscientious 

motives " [Bompas mutters in his sleep.] He's 

dreaming, — hark ! 

Bompas. 

[In his sleep.] "Mr. Speaker — sir!" 

Mrs. Bompas. 
Oh, dear ! 

Bompas. 

"Nothing but a stern sense of public duty " 

Mrs. Bompas. 

That miserable speech ! 

Bompas. 
" Nothing but an acute perception " 

Mrs. Bompas. 
Stop ! [Shaking him.] Percy ! 

Bompas. 
[Opening his eyes.] Eh ? 

Mrs. Bompas. 

Wake, wake ! [He starts to his feet.] Where are 
you going ? 



THE TIMES 163 

BOMPAS. 

The Division — the Division ! 

Mrs. Bompas. 
No, no — you're at home. It's morning. 

Bompas. 
At home — in online: — I've been dozing — I 



[Sees his notes on the table.] " Gentlemen, Actuated 
solely by conscientious motives " I — I remem- 
ber. 

[He looks broken doivn, and much older than in 
the previous acts.~\ 

Mrs. Bompas. 

What have you been doing all night? 

Bompas. 

Trying to furnish my constituents with my rea- 
sons for becoming a member of the Irish Party. 

Mrs. Bompas. 
Can't you — manage it ? 

Bompas. 
No. I began in the library, but my ideas wouldn't 
flow. I've started afresh in nearly every room in 
the house, but my ideas won't flow. I don't get any 
further than "conscientious motives." 

Mrs. Bompas. 
Old man, do you remember twenty years ago 
when you'd just sold out business at Kennington, 
and bought the two shops which were to grow into 
our present colossal establishment ? 



164 THE TIMES 

BOMPAS. 

Rather, as if it were yesterday. 
Mrs. Bompas. 

And do you remember how we sat down together, 
you and I, and drew up an announcement to our old 
customers ? 

Bompas. 
Yes. 

Mrs. Bompas. 

"Percy Bompas has the honour to hope " 

Bompas. 
" That in embarking upon bis great enterprise in 
the West End of London " 

Mrs. Bompas. 
" He will not lose the support and good-will of 
those old friends " 

Bompas. 
"Who have laid the foundation of his present 
prosperity." Ah ! 

Mrs. Bompas. 

Our ideas used to flow in those days, old man, 
didn't they ? 

Bompas. 

I — I suppose it was because we were younger. 

Mrs. Bompas and Bompas. 
[Sighing.] Ahh ! [He sits beside her.] 

Bompas. 
That was when we took a house at Haverstock 
Hill ; do you remember ? 



THE TIMES 165 

Mrs. Bompas. 

Do I remember ! Our first home this side of the 
water. 

BOMPAS. 

[Sadly.'] How we have got on since then ! 

Mrs. Bompas. 
Haven't we ? It was a nice house though. 

Bompas. 
You think so because we did so much to it our- 
selves. 

Mrs. Bompas. 
I put up the short blinds in the bedrooms with 
my own hands — I know that. I preferred doing it. 

Bompas. 
I hung every blessed picture in that house. I 
can almost feel the blisters from the cord now. 

Mrs. Bompas. 
I wonder what we should think of it all to-day if 
we could see it again. 

Bompas. 
Not much — after this. 

Mrs. Bompas. 
I suppose not ; we've got on so since then, haven't 
we? 

Bompas. 
Rather. 

Mrs. Bompas and Bompas. 
[Sighing.] Ahh ! 

[She gently puts her hand in his.] 



166 THE TIMES 

Mrs. Bompas. 

Oar first big half-past-seven dinner-party ; do 
you remember ? 

Bompas. 

Oh, Lor' yes, Clara — never mind that. 
Mrs. Bompas. 

Well, deai 1 , we were inexperienced then. We gave 
them plenty to eat though, eh ? 

Bompas. 
It took you half-an-hour to write each menu. 

Mrs. Bompas. 
Part of the food was sent in, I recollect, and part 
of it was done at home. 

Bompas. 
It doesn't matter much now — many that were 
there won't clatter another knife and fork — but to 
this day I regret the part of it that was done at 
home. 

Mrs. Bompas. 

My face burns too, after all these years, when I 
think of it. 

Bompas. 

Do you remember where Cook's cap was found ? 

Mrs. Bompas. 
Be quiet ! 

Bompas. 
That was the night, too, when we had one of our 
men from the shop, with "P. Bompas " round his 
coat-collar, to announce the guests. 



THE TIMES 167 

Mrs. Bompas. 

It seemed all right then. 

Bompas. 

Yes, by Jove, it's astonishing how we've got on 
since. 

Mrs. Bompas and Bompas. 
Ahh! 

Bompas. 

Well, I suppose I'd better change my clothes. 

Mrs. Bompas. 
Percy. Percy, old man, do you ever feel you'd 
like to go back ? 

Bompas. 
Back? 

Mrs. Bompas. 
I mean, to keep our experience, but \o go back to 
the contented, simple part of the old times? 

Bompas. 
It's no good wishing that, Clara. When you've 
got knowledge you've lost everything else. It seems 
to me there's only one thing to do in this world — to 
go on ; even if you're on the wrong road, Clara, my 
dear, get on, get on. 

[Trimble enters, clutching a newspaper' and muck 
agitated. ] 

Trimble. 
Here you are ! Oh, dear friends ! 

Bompas. 
Trimble ! 



168 THE TIMES 

Mrs. Bompas. 
Monty ! 

Trimble. 
Have you seen it? 

Mrs. Bompas. 
Seen what? 

Trimble. 
Tlie Morning Message. 

Mrs. Bompas. 
Miss Cazalet's paper ! 

Bompas. 
All ! Anything about me ? 

Trimble. 
Anything about you! Say us, us, dear E.-B. ! 
It's all out ! 

Mrs. Bompas. 
Out! 

Bompas. 
What's all out? 

Trimble. 
The whole bag o' tricks. And she has had the 
temerity to drag me into it — me, me ! Look, look — 
in the " Everybody's Friend " column ! [Reading.] 
"A Fraud on Society." 

Mrs. Bompas. 
Great powers ! 

Trimble. 
"It is time that some light should be thrown on 
the projected marriage of the son of a wealthy Mem- 
ber of Parliament and the daughter of a mysterious 
Hibernian widow, who is stated to have passed some 



THE TIMES 169 

years of her life in improving the condition of the 

Dakota Indians." 

Mrs. Bompas and Bompas. 
Mrs. Mountrafford ! 

Trimble. ' 
Wait ! " As a matter of fact, the accepted history 
of the widow's antecedents is a pure invention." 

Mrs. Bompas. 
You're so slow ! 

[She snatches the paper from him.] 

Mrs. Bompas. 
[Reading.'] "A marriage has already taken place 
between the parties before the Registrar of a remote 
district in Wales, and the second ceremony is a bare- 
faced attempt to palm off on Society the young 
woman and her mother, under assumed names, as 
people of some distinction." 

[The paper drops from Mrs. Bompas's hand.] 

Trimble. 
Good gracious me, you're missing the most out- 
rageous part of it, dear Mrs. E.-B. ! This is the al- 
lusion which will rouse your indignation. Listen. 
(Reading.) "We believe we are correct in stating 
that the audacious conspiracy owes its inception to 
an honourable dear friend of the young husband's 
family." There ! Can there be any question as to 
whom that points ? I've never been so upset. My 
position in Society is at stake. What am I to do ? 
Dear friends ! Really ! Not a word of sympathy ! 
Upon my soul, this is — I regret to employ the term — 
very like ingratitude. 



170 THE TIMES 

Mrs. Bompas. 

[ To herself. ] After all — after everything — held up 
to the whole world ! 

Trimble. 

Naturally, the first step you will take is to deny 
these assertions indignantly. 

Mrs. Bompas. 
Deny ! They can be proved to the hilt. 

Trimble. 

Well, well, but at the worst you can declare that 
you have yourselves been cruelly deceived. 

Mrs. Bompas. 
No, no, I — I can't. 

Trimble. 

You can't ! Dear — dear friends, I — I admit that 
I am for once slightly swayed by personal considera- 
tions. Pray remember what you owe to me ! 

Mrs. Bompas. 
Who has betrayed us ? 

Trimble. 

Obviously, McShane. That detestable widow must 
have told him, and he 



Mrs. Bompas. 
No, no — we've secured his silence. 

Trimble. 
You have ! 



THE TIMES 171 

Bompas. 

Mr. Trimble, you are not aware that I am a mem^ 
ber of the Irish Party ? 

Thimble. 
No! 

Bompas. 
Yes — yes. 

Trimble. 

And only last week I was speaking of you in the 
very highest terms to my dear friend the Leader of 
the House ! Then the traitor must be here, iu your 
own establishment, dear Mrs. E.-B. You must put 
your finger upon him or her before we go further. 
Pray, let us summon every interested person. 

[Mes. Bompas and Trimble pull the bell-ropes.'] 

Mrs. Bompas. 
What's the use of it ? 

Trimble. 
The use of it ! Dear lady, do try to consider the 
terrible position in which my good-nature has placed 
me ! 

[Jelf enters.] 

Jelf. 

[To Bompas — in a low voice ] I don't know whether 
you'll see anybody, sir, but 

Trimble. 
Jelf, your mistress desires to speak to Mrs. Moun- 



172 THE TIMES 

trafford, Miss Mountrafford, Mr. Howard, and Miss 
Beryl, here, at once. 

Jelf. 

Yes, sir, but 

Trimble. 

Do you hear ? At once ! Really ! 

[Jelf withdraius.] 
Trimble. 

Ouf ! There are certain contingencies which I 
believe even the keenest intellect Good gra- 
cious ! 

Mrs. Bompas. 
What? 

Trimble. 

Why, look, look ! What's the meaning of this ? 
[Miss Cazalet enters, pale, agitated, and in tears. ] 

Trimble, Mrs. Bompas, and Bompas. 

Miss Cazalet ! 

Miss Cazalet. 

You — you know what I've done ? 

Mrs. Bompas. 

Oh, you wicked woman ! How can you show 
your face here ! 

Miss Cazalet. 

You do know. Oh, I am so wretched ! 

Mrs. Bompas. 
Wretched ! 



THE TIMES 173 

Miss Cazalet. 

Listen, dear — I don't mean dear, I mean Mrs. 
Bompas. I was quite mad last night ; mad with 
vexation, indignation, anything you like to call it. 
Just think ! To be kicked out of a decent house by 
an old woman you hate ! Ah, even now, when I'm 
sorry, I could slap her in the face ! 

Mrs. Bompas. 
What have you come here to say — not this ? 

Trimble. 
Sssh ! sssh ! sssh ! 

Miss Cazalet. 

When I left here I had only one idea in my head, 
to be revenged on her. Ob, if I could have got hold 
of her husband, as I might have done years ago, 
what a fool I would have made of him ! 

Mrs. Bompas. 
Miss Cazalet ! 

Miss Cazalet. 
Well, I rushed down to Boswell Court — you know, 
the office of the 31. M. — in a fury. I saw that by 
discrediting your family T could humiliate the wom- 
an whose son is engaged to your daughter, and I 
scribbled those lines. Ah, I almost wrote them 
with my nails ! 

Mrs. Bompas. 
Cruel ! heartless ! 

Miss Cazalet. 
Then I supped at the club, off biscuits and cham- 



174 THE TIMES 

pagne, and went home to bed. To bed ! Look at 
the rings round my eyes ! I declare I haven't slept 
a wink. Look here, I'm downright sorry — there ! 
You've been very kind to me, you and your stupid 
husband — I beg your pardon, there he is ; and I've 
behaved like a — what you please — to sacrifice you 
to hit Lady Ripstow. So now, tell me what to do 
to put things right ; I'll do anything while I'm in 
a penitent mood like this, anything. Oh, I'm an 
inconsistent, miserable, ill-conditioned woman, and 
have been all my life ! 

Trimble. 
[To Mrs. Bompas.] Most fortunate. An ample 
apology to myself and others in her paper to-morrow 
will set things straight. 

Mrs. Bompas. 
Never ; some busybody is sure to inquire further 
and discover the facts. 

Trimble. 
Of course, of course. We must divert the suspi- 
cion from ourselves. I have it ! She must publicly 
and explicitly apologise to some other family. It's 

all right — I remember a similar case in which I 

[Taking a lozenge.~\ Now, what you have to do, dear 
Miss Cazalet, is to place yourself unreservedly in my 

hands 

Miss Cazalet. 
Your hands ! What business is it of yours ? 

Trimble. 
Dear lady, you forget I am the person most grossly 
libelled ! 



THE TIMES 175 

Miss Cazalet. 
Oil, of course, I've mentioned you, haven't I? 

Trimble. 
Mentioned me ! 

Mrs. Bompas. 

[Looking through the doorway.] Mrs. Mountraf- 
ford ! 

Trimble. 

[To Miss Cazalet.] Come into the next room and 
I'll advise you in your terrible difficulty. Come, 
come. 

Miss Cazalet. 

Mr. Bompas — Mr. Bompas — when I go down to 
the office I'll instruct some one to write a short com- 
plimentary leader on your last night's speech. 
[Bompas mixes his head. She is startled at his appear- 
ance.] Ah ! 

Bompas. 

Madam, I never spoke. 

Trimble. 

Sssh, sssh ! He's a member of the Irish Party. 
Come along. 

[As Trimble and Miss Cazalet go out, Mrs. Hooley 
enters, followed by Honoria and Beryl.] 

Mrs. Hooley. 

You've heard from him ! 

Mrs. Bompas. 
Him! 



1V6 TEE TIMES 

BOMPAS. 

Tim ! He's repented of his unkindness ! 

He's ! 

Mrs. Bompas. 

[Handing her the newspaper.] Look at this, all 
of you ! Bead it ! Bead it ! 

[Mrs. Hooley, Honoria, and Beryl read the news- 
paper.] 

Mrs. Bompas. 

Now see what you and your daughter have 
brought us to ! 

Mrs. Hooley. 
Owh! 

Honoria. 
Ob, mother ! 

Mrs. Hooley. 

Oh, the unfavourable comments ! 

Mrs. Bompas. 

Who is it that has helped to bring this final dis- 
grace upon us — that is what we want to know. 
Dishonourable as we've been, Mr. Bompas and 
I haven't quite deserved this. There, my heart's 
broken ! 

Beryl. 
Mamma ! 

Mrs. Bompas. 

Go away ! You've been against us all through. 
Your sympathy's no good ; Pa and I don't want it. 



THE TIMES 177 

Mrs. Hooley. 

Oh, the uncomplimentary allusions ! 

[Beryl steals over to Bompas and sits beside 
him.] 

Bompas. 
Berry ! 

Beryl. 
Papa dear. 

Bompas. 

Ah ! you can crow over ma and me now. This 
is your triumph, this is. 

Beryl. 

My triumph ! [Slipping her arm through his and 
laying her head upon his shoulder.] Oh, papa, just 
think ! 

[Lady Ripstow and Denham enter.] 

Mrs. Bompas. 
Lady Ripstow ! Lord Lurgashall ! 

Beryl. 
[To herself.] Denham ! [She goes out quickly.] 

Mrs. Bompas. 
Percy ! Percy ! 

[Bompas raises his head with an effort, then lets it 
sink again.] 

Lady Ripstow. 
I am painfully distressed. You have seen that 
terrible woman's newspaper ? [Mrs. Bompas nods.] 
To my horror I find that one of the maids has al- 
lowed the wretched news-sheet to be brought into 



178 THE TIMES 

my bouse, and so these paragraphs have come under 
my notice. Of course you give an emphatic denial 
to the hideous charges. 

Mrs. Bompas. 

[Trying ineffectually to rouse Bompas.] Percy! 
Oh! 

Lady Ripstow. 

Surely — Lurgasha.il ! Ah, here are the two ladies 
who are implicated ! Mrs. Mountrafford, Miss 
Mountrafford, I ask for your assurance that there is 
not the slightest foundation for these abominable 
insinuations. 

Mrs. Hooley. 

Oh, the misfortunes that have come on us ! 

Honoria. 
Mother, darling ! 

[Mrs. Hooley and Hokobia sit, embracing and 
weeping.'] 

Lady Ripstow. 
I — I understand. [To Denham.] Take me away I 

Mrs. Bompas. 
Lady Ripstow, you evidently don't know — Lord 
Lurgashall has not told you 

Lady Ripstow. 
What ? 

Mrs. Bompas. 

His engagement to Beryl is broken off. 

Lady Ripstow. 
[Turning to Denham.] Broken off? 



THE TIMES 179 

Denham. 
Last night. 

Lady Ripstow. 

My son — my boy ! The relief is too great ! I — I 
can hardly credit it! And to think — that— up to 
yesterday — there was some question of — Lord Rip- 
stow calling ! [*S7te sinks into a chair. 1 

Denham. 

[To Mrs. Bompas.] Don't be alarmed. My mother 
is always like this at the end of the Season. I think 
her drops are in the carriage. 

[He goes out. Lucy Tuck, pale, red-eyed, and trem- 
bling, enters quietly.] 

HONORIA. 

Miss Tuck ! 

Lucy. 
Mrs. Bompas ! 

Mrs. Bompas. 

Child ! 

Lucy. 

Oh, Mrs. Bompas, they think I've come back for 
my boxes — but please, please hear what I've got to 
say. I have seen the paper — this dreadful thing in 
the paper ! It's my fault that it's there — all my 
fault. 

Mrs. Bompas. 
Your fault ? 

Lucy. 

Yes, when your son told me the secret of his mar- 
riage 



180 THE TIMES 

Mrs. Bompas. 
My boy told you ? Howard ! 

Bompas. 
Ah! 

[Howard enters, wearing a gaily -coloured morning- 
jacket. ] 









HOWAKD. 


Do you want 


me 


, pa? 


Dol- 


I I 


i 


Bompas. 
Mrs. Bompas. 


Percy 


! No, 


no 


1 

Howard. 


Here ! 


what now 


? At me again ! 


I— I- 


I ! 




Bompas. 
Mrs. Bompas. 



Oh dear, oh dear ! 

[Bompas sinks back on to the settee. Honoria 
seizes Howard and drags him array.] 

Honoria. 
Come away, now ! 

Howard. 
When do I do right ! I dun' 



[The newspaper is put into his hayids.] 



THE TIMES 181 

Lucy. 

Oh, don't blame him — blame me ! For instead 
of keeping the secret as I ought to have done, I 
blurted it out to my — my — my aunt, and now— 
now ! Oh, you will forgive her ! 

Mrs. Bompas. 
Forgive her ! 

Lucy. 

Yes, yes, you must. A friend has just called in at 
our lodgings to say that unless every syllable of 
what aunt has stated can be substantiated, she could 
be sent to prison for a vindictive libel ! To prison ! 

Lady Eipstow. 
Certainly ! 

Lucy. 

Lady Eipstow ! I didn't 

Lady Eipstow. 

And if ever a woman deserved such a fate — — ! 

Lucy. 

Ah, no, but you wouldn't do it, would you ! You 
wouldn't do it ! Mr. Bompas — Mrs. Bompas — 
oh, please, please ! You don't know— you don't 
know ! 

[Miss Cazalet enters, followed by Trimble.] 

Miss Cazalet. 
Lucy ! 

Lucy. 

[Throwing her arms impulsively around Miss Caza- 
let.] Oh, mother, mother ! 



182 THE TIMES 

Mrs. Bompas. 



Mother ? 

Mother ? 



Lady Ripstow. 



Miss Cazalet. 



Lady Ripstow ! [Whispering to Lucy, disengaging 

herself ,] You little ! I — I knew you'd do this 

some day ! 

Lucy. 

[Whispering to Miss Cazalet.] I didn't mean 
to ! It escaped me ! 

Miss Cazalet. 

[To Lucy.] Hush! Run away, child. I'll follow 
you. [Lucy goes out ivith faltering steps.] Sweet 
girl ! How fond we are of each other ! [To Mrs. 
Bompas.] I am teaching her to call me Mother. You 
heard her ? It is only affection's little comedy, but 
the mere name soothes a lonely woman. 

Lady Ripstow. 
Ahh! 

Miss Cazalet. 

[To Mrs. Bompas, offering her hand.] Good-bye. 
[Mrs. Bompas, half-frightened, shakes hands uith 
her.] 

Mrs. Bompas. 
G — good — bye. 



THE TIMES 183 

Miss Cazalet. 

Lady Eipstow, you're looking very old. When 
Lord Ripstow once did me the honour of calling 
upon me he told me that he was a great admirer of 
young women. Think that over. Good-day. 

[She goes out.} 
Lady Ripstow. 

It isn't true. Fiend ! It isn't true. 

Mrs. Bompas. 
Lady Ripstow ! 

Thimble. 
Dear Lady R. ! 

Lady Ripstow. 

Lursashall ! Where is Lurgashall ? 

[Jelf shoivs in McShane, who carries a newspa- 
per. Directly Mrs. Hooley sees McShane she 
hovers about him persistently.] 

McShane. 

I see him. [Showing newspaper.] Mr. Bompas, 
I'll trouble you to look at that. All, I see you've 
seen it. Upon my soul, sir, I'm disheartened. Is 
this the way you keep a delicate family secret ? To 
think that such an exposure should occur on the 
very morning the leading papers chronicle your con- 
version to the Irish party ! 

Mrs. Hooley. 
Tim. 

McShane. 
What's that ? 



184 THE TIMES 

Mrs. Hooley, 
Tim, darling. 

McShane. 

Good morning, ma'am ; I'm talking to Mr. Bom- 
pas on political matters. [To Bompas.] Ob, it makes 
me sick to contemplate it ! Badly as we wanted 
you, we can't take you with a disgraceful accusation 
banging over you. People are so fastidious nowa- 
days. Go away, Katbleen. [Returning to Bompas.] 
But understand me now, we sba'n't part with you 
without a struggle. [To Mrs. Hooley.] I'm speak- 
ing privately, ma'am. [To Bompas.] Somehow or 
other we must bottle the horrible affair up — the 
Party will help. If we don't succeed, sir, I warn 
you, we'll not have you with us ; we will not be pol- 
luted by you ! We'll not Will you leave us, 

Kitty ? Ob, the vexation this'll be to Michael James 
Shannon ! Look here, ma'am, now — Oh, the dis- 
gust of Jo Finnerty ! 

Trimble. 

Dear Mr. McS.! 

McShane. 

Your confidential adviser. [To Mrs. Hooley.] If 
you don't release my coat, ma'am 

Trimble. 
Now I know you've seen the monstrous paragraphs 
which have appeared this morning. 

McShane. 

Seen J 

Trimble. 

I thought so. But, dear Mr. McShane, I hope 
_you don't need my assurance that those very per- 



THE TIMES 185 

sonal allusions are not intended to refer to our dear 
friend there at all 

McShane. 

Not intended ! 

Trimble. 
And, what is more, the next, and I believe final, 
issue of that unhappy journal will tender the hum- 
blest apology to the actual family so mercilessly 
libelled ; some very worthy people of the name of 
Higginson, I am informed. 

McShane. 

[ To Trimble ] I grasp the move, Mr. Trimble ; I 
understand, sir. [To Bompas.] Well, well, then I 
suppose you'll be permitted to make your first con- 
tribution to our Parliamentary Fund in the course 
of to-morrow. Ah, but I'm ashamed of both of you ! 

Oh, the trickery of it ! Oh, the ! What is it, 

Kitty? [He retires with Mbs. Hooley.] 

Mrs. Bompas. 

Percy 

Lady Bjpstow. 

What I have to say, Mr. Bompas, is that, under 
the circumstances, I deem it my duty not to alto- 
gether withdraw my friendship from your family. 

Trimble. 
Charming ! 

Lady Bipstow. 
My old friend, Mr. Trimble, has hurriedly ex- 
plained to me the weak but amiable way in which he 
allowed himself to be dragged into this affair— — - 



186 THE TIMES 

Trimble. 
I don't regret it. 

Lady Bipstow. 

And I gather that means have been taken to avert 
disgrace. During the brief remainder of the present 
Season, therefore, we shall exchange greetings upon 
meeting as usual. 

Trimble. 

This is quite delightful. And so things in this 
really charming house will go on in the same old 
pleasant routine, just as before. 

Mrs. Bompas. 
Just as before. 

Bompas. 
Just as before. 

Lady Bipstow. 

With the exception, of course 

Trimble. 

Oh, dear Lurgashall and — ahem ! Of course. 
Otherwise, just as before. 

Mrs. Bompas and Bompas. 
[To themselves.] Just as before. 

Trimble. 
Just — as — before. 

Bompas. 
No ! No ! No ! 

[There is a general movement of surprise.] 

[Denham and Beryl enter.] 



THE TIMES 187 

Mes. Bompas. 
Percy ! 

Trimble. 
Dear E.-B. ! 

Bompas. 

[To Mrs. Bompas.] Sit down ! 

Mrs. Bompas. 

Why ? 

Bompas. 
Sit down, old lady. Take a sheet of paper — 
quick, Clara ! — and write — write — write ! 

Mrs. Bompas. 
What— what ? 

Bompas. 
[Dictating.'] "To the Editor of The Times. 
Sir." [Mrs. Bompas writes.'] 

Mc Shane. 
What ails him? [Gripping Lady Ripstow's arm.] 
Kathleen — I beg your pardon. [Turning to Mrs. 
Hooley.] Kathleen! 

Bompas. 
[Dictating.] "Permit me to announce to my 
constituents, through your columns, that I intend to 
immediately resign my seat in the House " 

Mrs. Bompas. 

[Wilting.] Percy ! 

Trimble. 
Dear friend ! 

McShane. 

Mr. Bompas, are you demented ? 



1SS THE TIMES 

BOMPAS. 

[To McShane.] Keep away from me ! Keep 
away ! 

McShane. 

[Retreating against Lady Ripstow.] Kathleen ! I 
beg your pardon. [To Mrs. Hooley.] Kathleen ! 

Bompas. 

[Dictating.] " to retire from business, and 

to reside abroad." 

Trimble. 

Now dear E.-B., I must speak a word ! 

Howard. 

Oh ! Here, pa ! 

McShane. 

Upon my soul ! [To Lady Ripstow.] Excuse 

me. 

Bompas. 

[Dictating.] "Your obedient servant." 

Trimble, McShane, and Howard. 

No, no, no ! 

Bompas. 

Ring the bell, Clara — ring the bell ! [Mrs. Bom- 
pas rings.] [Writing.] "Percy — Bompas." No 
Egerton. Damn the Egerton ! 

Lady Ripstow and Mrs. Hooley. 
Oh! 



THE TIMES 189 

McShane. 

Oh, the vile language ! 

[Bompas addresses and seals the letter.] 

Trimble. 

But — but — but, dear E.-B., you're undoing all I've 
done for you ! This is practically an admission of 
— of Everything that's unpleasant ! 

McShane. 
Absolutely ! 

Lady Bipstow. 

Without doubt ! 

Mrs. Hooley. 
Ah, he's ruining my character for me ! 
[Jelf enters.'] 
Bompas. 
[To Jelf.] By messenger. 

Trimble. 
Dear friend, pause — pause ! You are fatally com- 
promising me ! 

Bompas. 

Tout ! meddler ! go-between ! 
Trimble. 

My position in Society ! I — I ! 

Bompas. 
[Handing the letter to Jelf. J By messenger — at 
once. [Jelf withdraws.] 

Trimble. 
A confession — and I involved ! A confession ! 



190 THE TIMES 

BOMPAS. 

Yes, a confession. Clara — old lady — I — I've 
broken down. My head's gone — I can't stand it 
any longer. Take me away — out of it — out of it ! 

Mrs. Bompas. 
Yes, yes, Percy. 

Bompas. 

I wasn't always as I am now. It is " getting on 
in the world" that has ruined me. I've thought of 
it all-night through. A self-taught man must al- 
ways be a proud fool ; he has a double share of vanity 
— the vanity of the ready pupil and the vanity of the 
successful tutor combined ! He is blown out till he 
bursts ! I say there ought to be a law to stop men 
like me from " getting on " beyond a certain point. 
Prosperity weakens our brains and hardens our 
hearts ; it takes honest friends from us and seats 
things like that [pointing to Trimble] in their chairs ; 
it spoils good wives and breeds bad children ! 

Mrs. Bompas. 

No, no, Percy— it hasn't utterly spoilt me. I'm 
tired too. We'll go away together, you and I, old 
man, to some place where we're not known, and 
we'll try back — shall we, shall we ? [She kneels be- 
side him.] All right, Percy — cheer up, old man ! 

Howard. 

Here, ma ! This is a nice blow to my prospects 
in life ! 



THE TIMES 191 

HONORIA. 

Come away ! You've got me. 

McShane. 

[To himself.] Well, well, I suppose I'll explain 
matters to Michael James Shannon and Mr. Finnerty 
as best I can. I've done my utmost for the Party, 
and if Mr. Finnerty gives me any of his temper — 
but I'll not anticipate. [Contemplating Bompas.] 
Upon my soul, that's a humiliating spectacle ! Oh, 
the moral I could draw from it. [Mes. Bompas looks 
round at him fiercely.] Take him away, ma'am, as 
soon as possible — he's not made of the right material 
for political life. Oh, what an escape the Party's 
had ! [He goes out.] 

Mas. Hooley. 
Tim, dear ! [She steals out after McShane,] 

Lady Kipstow. 
Mr. Trimble— Mr. Trimble 

Trimble. 
Oh! 

Lady Ripstow. 

Pray take me downstairs ; Lurgashall has evi= 
dently — — 

Denham. 

I am here, mother. One moment. Mr. Bompas — — 

Mrs. Bompas, 
Percy ! 



192 THE TIMES 

BOMPAS. 

Well? 

Denham. 

You are going to leave London, to live abroad, I 
hear. 

Bompas. 

Yes! 

Denham. 

There is one duty which I hope you will perform, 
sir, before you start. 

Bompas. 
Duty ? 

Denham. 

A father's duty — to give Beryl to me, at our mar- 
riage. 

Mrs. Bompas. 
Berry ! 

Lady Kipstow. 

No, no ! I forbid it ! 

Bompas. 

Lurgashall ! After all ! After all ! [He sivays ; 
Denham supports him.] Oh ! Lurgashall ! 



the end. 



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